


Bad Idea

by JustinTimberlake



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-01-16 16:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustinTimberlake/pseuds/JustinTimberlake
Summary: Eric reconnects with his best friend's little brother. Except he's not so little anymore. He's older, he's kind of attractive, and he's looking across the room at Eric like he knows exactly what Eric is thinking. And maybe Eric is fucked.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dierdele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dierdele/gifts).



> I came up with this idea on one of my long bus rides in Japan when I used to send @dierdele long streams of consciousness and prompt ideas based on the music I was listening to (Bad Idea by Ariana Grande is one of the ones that inspired this fic, hence the title!). Then I got to Thailand and I was on the beach and I decided that I couldn't leave it alone anymore and got to work on a "plan" that ended up being 8k long! I'm not even home yet but I'm too obsessed with this story to not be writing and publishing it. Hope you guys enjoy! (Especially you, Shelby xxx)
> 
> <3

Eric pulls up in Dele’s driveway and as he gets out of the car, he takes a moment to appreciate the house. It doesn’t matter that he’s seen the house a million times, or even that Dele only has the house in the first place because his adoptive family are rich and throwing money at their children is their only way to express love. It is still a damned nice house, and Eric can never fully get over that sense of wonder he’d had the first time he’d gone round in their second year of uni. The fact it was only for one person blows his mind, and he’s actually really happy for Dele that his younger brother is moving back in for his final year, because he’s pretty sure that when Eric isn’t round, Dele gets lonely in the big house all by himself. He wonders if it will be a little weird - he’s not seen Winksy for around five years, since he was in uni himself, and back then he’s pretty sure Winsky was terrified of him. Still, he hopes it will all be fine, and that Winks won’t mind him hanging around too much. He likes Dele’s pool too much to give up his semi cohabitation status, so he’s going to try his very best to make a good impression on Winksy this time. 

Eric doesn’t bother to knock - he never does - and just lets himself in, calling up to Dele that he’s here. Dele shouts down his drink order and Eric rolls his eyes but pours them both a drink anyway and heads outside with them, as well as the leftover Subway from the fridge that he knows Dele won’t eat because he’s weirdly touchy about leftover food. He smiles a little to himself, touched at the thought Dele would save the leftovers just for him, and sits down, inspecting the sandwich. He frowns. It’s the meatball one. Not really his favourite, but he guesses it will do. He didn’t even think that Dele liked the meatball one, but he shrugs. Dele is always trying new things, whether it’s a moisturiser that’s “guaranteed to stop signs of aging from 18+” or a new tequila that promises to give you no headache (the half-full bottle has since been relegated to the topmost cupboard because of how  _ severe  _ the headache actually was) so he supposes this isn’t too far of a stretch. He eats about half of it, frowning the entire time because he really doesn’t like it, but he is hungry and can’t be bothered to get anything else, before Dele finally joins him.

“What took you so long?”

Dele looks at him like it’s obvious as he lies down on the sun lounger.

“I was getting ready.”

Eric is about to argue, since Dele is literally just dressed in swimming trunks and sliders, but Dele interrupts him, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Did you get me anything from Subway? Please say you did, I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“What are you talking about?” Eric says, nonplussed. “This is your leftover sub. From the fridge.”

“I didn’t go to Subway.” Dele frowns.

“Well, it didn’t just appear, did it?” Eric rolls his eyes. “You must’ve -”

Eric cuts himself off and stares down at the half-eaten sandwich in horror.

“This isn’t yours?”

Dele shakes his head, and he’s putting the pieces together as well, as evidenced by the smirk spreading across his face. Eric groans. He was so bothered about making a good impression on Dele’s little brother now they’re meeting again, and instead, before he’s even spoken a word to him, he’s helped himself to his food. 

“You’re so greedy,” Dele laughs, “You couldn’t have waited to ask?”

Eric knows that he still looks mortified, mainly because he still feels a bit mortified, and so Dele visibly softens a little, taking pity on him.

“Well, he’s out now anyway. And you can apologise to Winksy tomorrow. He’s invited you to his 21st!” 

Eric blinks. He’s unsure as to why Winksy would’ve invited him, but then Dele follows up with telling him that Harry Kane is invited too, and Eric realises that it’s more of a Dele +2 sort of invite than anything else. He wants to circle back to asking Dele if he can pay Winks back, or even if he should go out and buy him another, but it’s a hopeless task. Dele said those magic words -  _ Harry Kane  _ \- and now Eric has to sit down and buckle up for the latest rant about just how much Dele wants to have sex with him. Eric always wryly notes to himself that Dele never brings up how he most certainly has romantic feelings for Harry too, not just the sexual ones, but he lets Dele carry on, not wanting to shatter his mostly harmless delusion. 

He listens to Dele for the better part of an hour, carefully interjecting with noises and prompt questions when Dele goes a little quieter, making sure that he can appear completely focused while he also looks for a gift to get for Winks. It’s frustrating, because he doesn’t really  _ know  _ him - he knows he used to be obsessed with Lord of the Rings, but that was five years ago and he’s probably moved on, and the only other pertinent piece of information he has is that he likes the meatball marinara sub from Subway. He gives up, sighing, and decides to just find Winks at the party at some point tomorrow and buy him a few drinks. And, well, if that fails, he can always get him a Subway gift card. 

\--

It’s only just 9:00 PM but the party is in full swing. Eric is still nursing his rum and coke, while Dele is three pink gins down when Harry eventually shows up. Eric knows that it’s at least a little bit of the alcohol’s influence that has Dele sprinting over to meet him at the door and hug him. Eric waves at him from the bar, and Harry gives him a polite nod and a grin before Dele steals his attention back again. Eric turns back to the bar, rolling his eyes fondly. He  _ does  _ think that they’re oblivious and that it’s cute, but he also knows he’s now got at least half an hour to kill while Dele and Harry flirt and pretend that they’re totally just being friendly. 

He orders himself another drink, then swivels round when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

He’s taken aback.

The bright pink “21!” badge clues him in that it’s Dele’s brother who just tapped him on the shoulder, but he has to look him up and down a couple of times to reconcile the image in his head of the awkward, nervous teenager he used to know with this man in front of him. It’s not that he looks that different. He just looks a lot older. A lot more mature. And his clothes just fit him so well. And are those  _ abs  _ underneath his shirt -

His thought process is interrupted by the birthday boy, who’s pushing his hair out of his eyes and asking if he would mind a bit of company. Eric wordlessly gestures to the seat next to him, and Winks grins and takes the seat, even adjusting it so he’s sat a little closer. 

“So,” Winks starts, still grinning, “I hear you owe me a sandwich.”

“Oh shit,” Eric laughs, “I forgot about that. I’m sorry. Did Dele tell you I didn’t mean to?”

Winks smiles, and Eric doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but he looks a little coy.

“He said you could make it up to me tonight.”

Eric stares at him for a fraction of a second longer than he probably should, then clears his throat and nods.

“Of course,” he turns to the bartender and tells him to add Winks’ drink to his bill, so Winks considers the menu looking for another one, clearly trying to choose the cheapest on the menu. Eric watches him, then shakes his head. “Pick a cocktail.”

Winks deliberates for a while, and almost goes for one that sounds truly disgusting - Jack Daniels and Blue Curacao do  _ not  _ go together - until Eric makes the decision for him.

“Can we get two raspberry mojitos, two porn star martinis, and two margaritas please? Thank you.” 

Winks laughs and tries to protest, saying that he doesn’t have to get so many, but Eric insists. 

“It’s payback for your stolen sandwich. And, besides, you’re the birthday boy! It says so on your very manly badge.”

Winks looks down at it then Eric follows his gaze back over to the dancefloor, finding Dele and Harry dancing with two girls between them, but still looking intently at each other and grinning. Both Eric and Winks tear their eyes away from the pair of idiots when their mojitos are put down in front of them. 

“Dele made me wear it,” Winks answers, rolling his eyes and taking a cautious sip, before going in for a bigger one when he’s satisfied that he likes it. “You know what he’s like.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

Eric is worried at first that it will be awkward with Winks, but they quickly become comfortable with each other, especially with Dele as a conversation topic. They talk about what Dele is like to live with, and Eric gives Winks tips on how Dele seems to have gotten messier with age, while Winks tells Eric funny stories from when they were younger, even revealing that Dele once dressed up in his mum’s clothes. Eric pleads with Winks for a photo, and Winks laughs and tells him he will send it him later, but that he can under no circumstance tell Dele. They keep watching the dancefloor, too, and by the time they’re onto their margaritas, they’re both laughing so hard their chests are hurting, even though they can’t really remember what was that funny in the first place. All they know is that they were taking the piss out of Dele and Harry and how blindingly obvious they are, and the next thing they knew, they were collapsing into laughter. 

They’re still laughing when Dele and Harry make their way over to them.

“What is this?!” Dele exclaims, grinning. “Are you two friends now? This is the best news I’ve heard since…”

Dele trails off, clearly trying to think of any piece of news ever, and drawing a blank, before Eric interrupts.

“Since you heard Harry arrived?” 

He says it low enough that Harry, on the other side of the group, doesn’t quite hear him, but the glare from Dele and the mischievous smirk from Winks tells him that both brothers definitely did. Dele ignores him, and Harry uses the lull in conversation to give Winks his birthday present. Winks opens it right then and there, because for some reason, Harry actually knows Winks a lot better than Eric does, and has given him presents for years now. Winks gushes that Harry’s presents are always the best, and Eric knows that he’s being absolutely ridiculous when he frowns with a bit of jealousy. 

Winks’ present is a framed picture of the constellations in the sky on the day he was born, and Winks looks genuinely a little touched by it when he gives Harry a hug and thanks him. Eric’s irrational jealousy doesn’t really dissipate until Winks pulls back with a grin and looks at him before he turns and says: “Thanks Harry! You’re such a great brother in law!”

Eric grins back at him, Winks looking just so pleased with himself, and Eric’s grin only gets wider when Dele swats Winks on the head with a napkin and gives him a death glare. Thankfully for Dele, Harry doesn’t seem to really understand what Winks is saying, and he’s just smiling telling Winks that he thinks of him as a brother too, making Dele blush and glare at Winks harder. Eric only hears the opening notes of  _ Te Amo  _ before he sees Dele disappearing, pulling Harry to the dancefloor insisting that it’s “their song!” Eric smirks at Winksy, because  _ surely _ Dele has heard the lyrics to that song and must know the implication of that song being his and Harry’s song, and he’s ready to laugh about just how homoerotic that is, but while Winks smirks back, he’s also standing up. Eric follows Winks’s glance, and sees that Dele is waving him over, insisting the birthday boy come and dance. Winks shrugs, glancing back at Eric sheepishly.

“I probably should,” he laughs, self-deprecatingly. “Even if I’m a shit dancer.”

Eric nods and smiles, a little disappointed that their conversation is over, realising how much fun he just had with Winks. He tells himself that it’s silly to be disappointed, and that Winks  _ should  _ be having fun with his friends on his birthday, not sat with his brother’s lonely best friend. 

“It was lovely to talk to you again, Winksy,” he says, standing up so he can clap his shoulder. “Thanks again for inviting me.”

Winks hesitates for a split second, but then he matches Eric’s hand on his shoulder with a tentative hand on Eric’s elbow and smiles.

“Dance with me?”

Eric blinks at him. Winks is meant to be having fun with his friends, and yet he’s asking Eric to dance with him. Eric only considers for a brief second that Winks might just be doing it out of pity before he quickly dismisses the thought. He knows he isn’t imagining the hopeful look in Winks’ eye or the way that his hand is lingering on his elbow, thumb stroking the skin absentmindedly. And he doesn’t miss the blush that spreads on Winks’ cheeks when Eric pointedly glances down at his elbow, either.

“Sure,” Eric finally says, picking up his drink and downing it. “Let’s dance, birthday boy.” 

He doesn’t miss the way Winks’ entire face lights up when Eric leads him to the dancefloor, and he doesn’t miss the moments where Winks seems to get a little confident, rolling his hips and briefly touching Eric’s waist before he dances away again, blushing. And he definitely doesn’t miss the way that Winks is looking at him when he thinks he isn’t looking, biting his lips. 

At one point,  _ Womanizer _ by Britney Spears comes on, and Winks’ friend (Eric isn’t sure what he’s called, but he thinks he hears the name Ben) laughs and comes over, forcing Winks into some sort of half choreographed routine that Winks looks absolutely mortified by. Winks keeps looking at Eric as if to gauge his reaction, but then suddenly he looks down and Eric knows the next move must be really embarrassing, but then Winks faces away from him and won’t look back around. Eric is just about convincing himself that maybe Winks is going to go and dance with his friends now, but then Winks is dropping lower and lower, rolling his hips, then he gets right down to the floor and  _ slut drops  _ right in front of him. Eric stares at him, stares at his ass sticking out, stares at the way Winks dances back upright, stares when Winks turns back round to him and looks all coy and flirty. He even stares when Winks has another shot of tequila, but then he glances around the room and he catches Dele’s eye. Dele waves at him from where he’s sat, practically in Harry’s lap, and Eric waves back before turning back to seeing Winks staring at him intensely, licking a line of salt of his palm. 

It’s all Eric can do to stop himself from groaning out loud. He knows that if this were a normal night on the town and a boy like  _ that  _ was flirting with him like Winks has been, that he would already be grinding on him and whispering awful things in his ear. But this isn’t a normal night on the town. This isn’t a stranger Eric wants to fuck. This is Dele’s little brother Winksy. Dele’s little brother who used to be scared of Eric, who Eric can still remember what he looked like in his high school uniform. He knows he’s only five years older than him, but it still feels so horribly wrong. He wants to fuck his best friend’s brother.

This has got to be one of the worst things Eric has ever done. 

_ Fuck. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this from Melbourne airport!!! I've come to the end of my travels and it's a bittersweet feeling and I'm definitely going to miss it :( hope you guys like this chapter!!! Please let me know what you think xxx

Eric invites himself to Dele’s house within a week, which shouldn’t seem too odd, given that they are best friends and everything. However, Eric’s flatmate is out of town for the next couple of weeks, and normally he and Dele practically live at Eric’s flat whenever this happens. Eric knows that he’s acting weirdly, especially when he doesn’t know what to say when Dele asks him about Jan. He ends up lying, creating a scenario where Jan is too busy getting laid by two Russian chicks to hang out with him, and Eric can’t bear to hear them go at it any longer. Thankfully, Dele finds that whole concept delightful enough that he doesn’t even question it. Eric tries his hardest to shake off the nervousness and guilt over the fact he cared enough to lie about something so insignificant, but deep down he’s well aware of why he did it. 

Eric has just not managed to get Winksy out of his mind. He's obsessed with the idea of seeing him again, but he doesn't even know what he will do when or if it happens. He thinks that Winks was probably feeling drunk and reckless and a little bit wild because it was his 21st birthday, and he might view the whole flirtatiousness with Eric as a fun little drunken anecdote at best. He might even be embarrassed and deeply regret it. Despite that, though, Eric still just has to know for himself. He has to see him again. 

Dele is more than happy for him to come over, and tells him to let himself in like normal because he's not stopping his skincare routine for  _ nobody,  _ not when he's only just managed to steal all of Winksy's birthday skincare products. Dele doesn’t elaborate, but Eric instinctively knows that Dele didn’t steal them at all - that Winks will have given him those gifts because he doesn’t want or need beauty products. Not that Dele does either, but Dele has always been far too self-obsessed for his own good. 

Eric goes round pretty much immediately after Dele's text comes through, and he tells himself that he's not disappointed that the house seems empty. He doesn't know what he was expecting anyway. It's not as if Winks would be sat there on the sofa in his underwear, waiting for him, cocktail and a Subway sandwich in hand - no matter how much he wishes that were the case.

He inspects the cupboards and finally finds a clean glass that doesn't have an obnoxious slogan on it, pulls it from the cupboard and pours himself a glass of water. When he turns around, he almost drops the glass on the hard tiles. Winks is walking into the kitchen, fresh from the pool, towelling off his hair. Water is dripping down his bare chest, his hair is stuck up oddly because of the rough towel treatment he had just given it and he's grinning widely. Eric can't decide whether he's too hot or too damn cute. 

“Hi, Eric!” Winks says, then takes a step forward before he hesitates and sways on the spot, frowning a little. “I don't want to get you all wet or I'd give you a hug.”

Eric smiles easily.

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

Winks smiles back at him and throws the towel carelessly over his shoulder before he grabs a glass for himself.

“What are you drinking? Vodka?”

Eric raises his eyebrows. “It’s midday.”

Winks shrugs, and his grin turns mischievous. He bends down to get the vodka from the bottom cupboard, and Eric can’t help himself from staring. Winks is in bright pink swimming shorts, and they’re very  _ very  _ tight, especially when he’s bent over like that. Winks spends a few minutes rummaging around in the cupboard, giving Eric’s mouth enough time to run completely dry. When Winks stands back up suddenly, clutching a bottle of grenadine syrup too, Eric has to swallow quickly and even out his expression. 

“Well,” Winks starts, pouring himself a generous measure of vodka, “ _ I’m  _ going to have a drink. Because I’m still young and cool.” 

Eric gasps, clutching at his chest in mock-offense.

“Are you calling me old and boring?”

“You won’t be if you have a drink with me,” Winks says sweetly, brandishing a second glass and waving it temptingly in front of Eric’s face. “It’s a Saturday. We’re allowed to be naughty.”

Eric stares at Winks for long enough that Winks starts to blush a little, before he finally decides on a response.

“Ok, Winksy. Let’s get naughty.” 

He regrets saying those words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, and so he overcompensates with loud laughter and an over-the-top wink. The overcompensation does little to minimise the effect of his words, though, and Winksy looks at him with fire in his eyes, lips slightly parted. He looks  _ hungry.  _

Eric sweeps his gaze from Winksy’s face all the way to his toes then back up again, and when he meets his eyes again, Winks is biting his lips. Eric begins to open his mouth to say something, anything to lighten the tension, when the kitchen door rattles open, and Dele bursts through it, slamming it behind him.

“Oops,” Dele grins, “Don’t know my own strength.” 

Eric lets out a long, deep breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

“Yep,” he laughs, poking Dele in the side. “A regular Clark Kent.”

Dele looks at him nonplussed, and Eric can’t even bring himself to explain to Dele that he was calling him Superman, because he knows Dele will ignore the sarcasm and instead just let the comment inflate his ego. So instead he just shakes his head, calls Dele an idiot, and turns back to Winks, who is now handing him his own drink. Dele outstretches his hand, too, and looks affronted when Winks tells him to make his own drink.

“You can’t be serious. You’ll make one for  _ Diet  _ and not me. Your own brother. Isn’t blood meant to be thicker than water?”

Eric smiles. Dele and Winks were both adopted when they were young - Dele was eight and Winks was three - by the Hickfords, who had another son called Harry. He guesses that’s why Dele’s always called Winks “Winks,” rather than “Harry.” (And now Dele has  _ another  _ Harry in his life. He really needs to branch out.) But it’s nice that even though they are adoptive siblings, they are still so close to each other that they don’t think anything of saying a phrase like that - even though they technically don’t share any blood at all. 

Winks and Dele bicker for a while about anything and everything, and Eric quietly observes them both. As an only child, he’s always fascinated by sibling dynamics anyway, and with Dele and Winks, it’s just somehow so endearing. Both of them keep looking back round at him with imploring expressions, trying to get him involved and on their side, but Eric just smiles and shakes his head. 

“Right, boys,” he finally interjects, “Stop fighting. Del, make your own drink.”

Dele shakes his head, muttering about betrayals and favouritism and  _ best friends  _ and Winks looks at Eric with a shy but pleased smile. Eric does still think they’re endearing, but he wants to roll his eyes at them both for treating this like a real issue. They’re both as silly as each other. Just as he’s thinking that, Winks runs the towel down his chest again, and Eric has to look away. It’s bad enough when he’s thinking about Winks as an isolated crush, but fancying him right now is so much worse, after such a clear display of the brotherly love between him and his best friend. 

Dele eventually gets over it, and invites Winks to watch Harry Potter with them, although he insists that Winks gets some clothes on. Winks acts surprised that he’s still in such a state of undress and quickly agrees. Dele turns to Eric as Winks is skipping out of the room.

“Sorry about my slutty little brother,” he says in a sing song voice.

Winks is running up the stairs now, but he cries “Shut up, Del!” as he goes, and it makes Dele laugh triumphantly. Eric laughs a little, too, but it’s more awkward. “It’s fine,” he replies. If only Dele knew just how fine it was with Eric that his brother was slutty. It was more than fine. 

Winks comes back in and is dressed in loose fitting grey joggers and a tight white t-shirt, and Eric still can’t stop staring at him. He’s furious that Winks looks just as sexy in loungewear as he is topless. He’s furious at how adorable Winks is, quoting the film under his breath and even waving an imaginary wand when he casts “expelliarmus” along with Harry. And he’s furious at the way that Winks keeps checking him out when he thinks Dele isn’t looking. Mostly, though, he’s furious at himself. 

\--

The next time Eric goes round to Dele’s, it’s not his idea. Dele invites him - well, he more or less  _ orders  _ him to come round. The text reads:  _ if ur not at mine n cuddling me in 20 min im finding a new bff :( x.  _ Eric knows without asking that it must be about Harry, and so he’s pulling a pair of joggers on and heading out of the door within the next two minutes. When Dele gets upset about Harry, he needs a lot of attention and hugs, and Eric’s more than happy to give them to him. He always is, but especially now, since he’s pretty certain that he dreamt of Winks last night. 

All in all, Eric actually takes twenty-four minutes to get to Dele’s, but while Dele points it out with a frown, he quickly forgives him when he realises that Eric has stopped off on the way to buy him ice cream and two bottles of wine, and lets him in with a small smile, holding his hand and leading him to the sofa.

They open the first bottle of wine and Eric has to gently let Dele’s hand go so that he can pour them both a glass. Dele shuffles a little closer to him and sighs loudly twice. Eric tries not to smile, but can’t help it. Even though he’s really sorry that Dele is sad, it’s also sort of cute how needy he is. As soon as Eric hands him his glass, Dele takes a gulp of it and leans fully against Eric’s side. He’s silent for a minute - which is a long time for Dele - and Eric has to prompt him.

“So,” he begins. “Is he with Cassidy again?”

Dele pulls a face.

“Well, she is his girlfriend,” he mumbles. He takes another sip of wine and sighs again, resting his head on Eric’s shoulder. Eric slings his free arm around Dele’s shoulders and squeezes. He knows he just has to be patient, and that Dele will eventually get drunk and let everything out and will feel better for it. He just needs to be there to support him. 

Sure enough, Dele does get steadily drunker throughout the night. Eric bought two bottles of wine this time because last time he only brought one and didn’t end up getting a glass, but even with the extra bottle he only ends up with one glass and a small refill. Dele drinks his like it’s water (or coke, because Dele would always much rather have a glass of coke than water no matter how much Eric and Harry alike nag him about how unhealthy that is) and he tells Eric about why he’s upset. That he doesn’t want Harry to have a girlfriend, that he wants Harry for himself, that he always wonders if Harry wants him too, and that everytime they seem on the brink of something, Harry will go on a date with his girlfriend again. 

Eric doesn’t even have to lie to Dele when he reassures him that Harry definitely does want him back. It’s obvious for anyone to see - the way that Harry looks at Dele, the way he speaks about him, the way he acts with him - he’s just as stupidly in love with Dele as Dele is with him, he’s just less willing to accept it than Dele is. Eric’s certain that Harry doesn’t even realise it himself yet. He tells Dele this, that Harry is just dumb and blind, and that he’s just as frustrated as Dele is. Dele eyes him after he says that, because he can’t believe that Eric would be even nearly as frustrated as he is about this whole thing, but it’s true. He hates seeing them dance around each other like this. On the one hand, it’s cute and it can be funny, but on the other, there’s moments like this where he just sees how much they are needlessly hurting each other. Because, as Eric points out, Dele also won’t tell Harry how he feels. 

Dele goes quieter and more contemplative after that, and Eric figures he’s trying to figure out exactly how he feels about Harry. Eric doesn’t want to spoil the surprise and tell Dele that Dele’s most definitely in love with him, so he just hugs Dele close to his chest and plays with his hair. He isn’t paying attention so he doesn’t notice exactly when Dele falls asleep on his chest, but when he looks at the clock, it’s only 8:45 PM. He lets Dele sleep there for a while, to make sure he’s in a deep enough sleep, then he carefully manoeuvres him so that he can pick him up and carry him to bed. 

Dele stirs when he gently lowers him under the covers, and Eric shushes him and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. Dele mutters “best friend,” in a slurred whisper, and Eric smiles and tells him to get to rest, his heart aching just a little bit. He loves Dele so much. He’s so grateful for their friendship. And he really, really hopes that Dele and Harry will get their act together soon so that Dele can be blissfully happy all the time. He deserves it.

He’s still thinking about how much he values Dele’s friendship when he decides to go in the pool for an evening swim, changing into his trunks and heading outside. He gets in, bristling a little bit at the cold, and swims a couple of laps, deep in thought. 

He’s so deep in thought that the gentle slide of the door startles him, and he whips his head around, wondering if Dele has woken up, feeling like a worried mother who has to put their child back to bed. 

He’s just opening his mouth to tell Dele to go back to bed, when he closes it with a snap.

It’s not Dele.

It’s Winks. 

Winks is clad in his little trunks again,  holding an Avengers towel of all things, and is looking just as surprised as Eric feels. He hesitates in the doorway, then takes a few measured steps forward.

“I didn’t realise you would be out here,” Winks says, glancing back at the house. “Is Dele around?”

Eric shakes his head. 

“Got drunk. He’s in bed.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Winks smiles, and Eric feels his lips turn up at the corners in return, entirely unbidden. They just stand there smiling at each other for a few seconds, before Winks asks if he wants him to join him in the pool.

The phrasing doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“It’s your pool, Winksy,” he says, then he looks at how Winks bites his lip and deflates a little at that, and even though he knows it’s a bad idea, he swallows his guilt and smiles. “I want you to come in.”

As Winks is grinning and climbing down the little ladder, Eric glances up at the dark window of Dele’s bedroom and has to look away immediately. Only ten minutes ago, he was thinking of how grateful he is for Dele’s friendship. He looks back at Winks, who is standing a little close to him, clearly on his tiptoes because he’s so short, and he splashes Winks a little, causing him to giggle. 

He wouldn’t feel so guilty if it weren’t for the fact that Winks’ giggle sealed the deal. Eric is going to try and kiss him tonight, he knows it and he accepts it, and at this point it just feel inevitable. 

He really doesn’t deserve Dele.

He’s the worst best friend in the world. 


	3. Chapter 3

They chat for a little while, clearing any residual awkwardness and also because it’s just really easy to chat to Winks. He’s smart, he’s funny, and he’s sweet and enthusiastic, and he sometimes just talks and talks for minutes on end then stops short, a little embarrassed, when he realises how long he’s been talking. Eric doesn’t mind though. He loves listening to Winks talk, and he loves how many questions Winks asks him too. He asks him his favourite colour (green) his favourite film (Pulp Fiction), and about his favourite memories and favourite holidays he’s ever been on. He asks Winks the same questions and more, and finds out that Winks likes Shrek 2 more than any self respecting adult should. Winks also tells Eric all about how Uni is going, from his classes to his friends and his nights out. 

He’s studying English Literature and History, and Eric is deeply interested in both, since he studied English Lit too. They chat about their favourite authors - Eric is absolutely distraught when Winks lists J.K. Rowling  _ first  _ and only adds Hemingway as an afterthought - and they talk about their favourite books and what, if anything, they would write if they were given a chance. Winks at first says that he would write a fantasy, something like Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones, but then as Eric is about to tell Winks about a terrible book he started to write when he was Winks’ age, Winks interrupts him.

“Or, you know, like a forbidden romance,” he blurts, then avoids Eric’s eyes, mumbling the rest of his sentence. “That could be cool.”

Eric eyes him for a second, but Winks still won’t look up at him. There’s an awkward moment of silence before Eric clears his throat, deciding that he needs to change the subject if he wants to carry on hanging out with him tonight.

“Yeah, that would be cool,” he says nonchalantly, then he taps Winks on the shoulder and grins. “Want to race?” 

Winks is still blushing a little bit, and it’s so cute and he looks so good but Eric has to try and ignore the thoughts as best as he can, so he just explains the rules to Winks - that they are going to do a length back and forth and that the first person to get back to the other side wins.

Winks asks what the prize is, and Eric laughs and shrugs.

“What do you want it to be Winksy?” 

Winks hesitates before he answers.

“Whoever wins gets to ask the other person to do whatever they want.” 

“Within reason,” Eric qualifies immediately, thinking about exactly how far Dele would take that sort of “prize” and how it could turn out horribly. Winks just nods and agrees, smiling, and that again just goes to show that even though they’re brothers, they’re actually very different.  

They both swim to the shallow end to start the race, and Eric bursts out laughing when Winks gets there and just flops onto his back.

“Are you… are you seriously going to try and race me doing the backstroke?”

Winks shrugs, looking smug. “I’ll still win.”

Eric raises his eyebrows at how cocky Winks is acting, but he enjoys it regardless. 

Winks doesn’t win. He gave it a remarkably good effort, though. Eric is shocked at how fast Winks can do the backstroke. He’s pretty sure it’s not humanly possible to swim that fast on your  _ back, _ and so he decides to give himself a bit of an edge and instead of just starting to swim on the way back, he pushes himself off the wall with force that poor little Winks couldn’t match if he tried. Eric wins by a fraction of a second, and Winks starts whining that it’s not fair, that Eric is too tall and shouldn’t use it to his advantage. He grabs Eric’s arm, still pouting and calling him a cheater, and he steps a little closer to him. Eric knows that if he just shifted his own thigh a millimetre to the right that their thighs would be touching. That Winks might even be touching his dick if he were any closer. They stare at each other for a few minutes. Winks’ golden skin is softly illuminated by the spotlights on the floor and the lamp in the corner, and his eyes look even darker than usual. His lips are slightly red because he won’t stop biting them, and he’s looking up at Eric, still pouting. He looks fucking fit.

“It’s not my fault you’re so cute and small, Winksy.” 

Winks visibly steels himself, taking a deep breath, then he steps forward. Eric’s leaning against the side of the pool, so there’s nowhere to go when Winks’ thigh slips between his own. From this new position, Winks looks up and bats his long eyelashes at him.

“You think I’m cute?”

Eric knows that this is a dangerous moment. He knows that he has to somehow walk the line of saying exactly what he means - because he  _ does  _ think Winks is cute - but he knows he at least needs to attempt to be casual. He knows that he’s not reading the signs wrong, he knows that if he got out of the pool right now and asked Winks to suck him off that Winks would do it in a heartbeat, but he also doesn’t want to push Winks too fast. He’s starting to actually really like him, and even though that’s just as worrying, he is starting to not just want to have sex with him. He wants to kiss him and he wants to take him out for ice cream and he wants to fuck him and wants to take him home to meet his family. He knows that he is getting carried away with himself, and that he can’t let that bleed into his actions and pressure Winks in any way. So he needs to try and keep it as casual as possible, and let Winks be the one to make the decisions. 

He lifts his hand to Winks’ hair and ruffles it, laughing just a little.

“Of course,” he says lightly, and he goes to drop his hand but Winks stops him, grabbing his elbow, just like he did at his party. Eric hesitates, then slowly runs his fingers through Winks’ hair again, smiling when Winks tilts his head just so into Eric’s hand. 

“What do you want?” Winks asks in a voice that is only just above a whisper, “For your prize?”

He shuffles impossibly closer, and Eric can feel Winks’ breath on his cheek, can feel Winks’ hand drop from his elbow to his chest, and can feel the way that Winks gasps against him when he uses his other hand to grip Winks’ hip and pull him flush against him. 

Winks is staring at his lips with his own lips parted, and Eric thinks  _ fuck it,  _ because he wants to do this so badly and clearly so does Winks, and Winks is the one making the decision, right? So he tightens his hold in Winks’ hair, making Winks let out a little whining noise that goes straight to Eric’s dick, and he leans in. 

He’s about an inch away from Winks’ face when a loud ringing noise startles him so much that he tugs Winks’ hair harshly. Winks cries out, and while admittedly it does sound more like a noise of pleasure than pain, Eric still feels bad and apologises profusely, patting Winks’ head and gently pushing him back so that he can shuffle out of the way. Winks looks lost and confused, distressed at the new distance between him and Eric.

“The phone?” Eric prompts, and Winks pulls a face, looking over at the offending noise and huffing angrily, shaking his head.

“I don’t need to answer it,” Winks insists, trying to step closer to Eric again, but Eric holds him at arm’s length. He’s worried that if Winks doesn’t answer the phone, Dele might wake up, and apart from anything else, Dele needs his sleep right now. And he probably doesn’t need to wake up and find his brother and best friend half hard in the pool together.

“It could be important,” Eric says gently, and he ushers Winks out of the pool. He has to help lift him out by his hips, because Winks apparently doesn’t have the upper arm strength to lift himself out of the pool without the steps, and he squeezes his hips just once before he lets go. Winks again looks back at him, looking distraught, and Eric tries not to smile too much about how much Winks must have wanted to kiss him. 

When Winks answers the phone, he does perk up a little bit.

“Hi Harry!” he exclaims, looking over at Eric and mouthing ‘it’s Harry’ helpfully, in case Eric hadn’t figured that out from the greeting. Eric swims over to the edge of the pool, curious about why Harry is calling. Winks listens for a second then starts talking again. 

“Dele is fine,” he says with a smile, “He just got a little drunk so he went to sleep.”

Harry must say something again, because Winks rolls his eyes and grins and looks at Eric before he cuts in again, looking at Eric the whole time.

“You two text each other goodnight every night? That’s cute.” 

Eric knows that Harry must be super awkward on the other end of the call, especially because of how Winks’ grin is growing, and the grin is infectious. 

“I’ll tell Dele you were worried and called for him,” Winks says, then his smile gets mischievous. “Even in the middle of your date! Sometimes I think you two should be the ones dating!” 

Eric gives him a thumbs up and and approving grin, knowing that Winks definitely thinks he’s being at least a little subtle, and as Winks chats to Harry a little more, about the date Harry took Cassidy on to see the new Avengers film, Eric makes his way out of the pool. He’s lucky that Winks is so excitable talking about Iron Man that he doesn’t realise at first that Eric is leaving, because when Winks does eventually realise his puppy dog eyes are absolutely killer. 

“Harry, I’m gonna have to go!” Winks says quickly, and they wish each other goodnight before Winks hangs up and turns fully to Eric, who is towelling himself off. 

Winks eyes him for a second, looking contemplative.

“I think I might go to bed,” Eric eventually says, and Winks just nods, accepting it.

Eric shifts his weight from one leg to the other, wondering if he should give him a hug or if he should just go upstairs. Winks is still looking at him, seeming like he’s considering something, but then suddenly Winks straightens up and smiles.

“I had a nice time tonight,” he says, “I really like hanging out with you.”

Eric’s heart is filled with a sudden warmth, and he has to physically stop himself from reaching out to stroke Winks’ hair again.

“I like hanging out with you too.”

Winks’ grin widens and he looks elated. He reaches for Eric and they hug, Eric squeezing Winks’ side a little while Winks turns his face into Eric’s neck. When they break apart, they both smile stupidly at each other for a minute before Winks takes a step back.

“Goodnight Eric. I hope I see you soon.”

Eric bids Winks a goodnight too, and watches him walk away before he trudges up to bed himself. He knows that Winks will see him again soon. He knows that he won’t be able to help himself from making sure of it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo i'm unemployed at the minute so i'm trying to get as much and many of my fics written as fast as I can! <3 i hope you guys like this chapter!! it's a bit longer than the last one so i hope that makes up for it. let me know what you think xxx

Eric actually doesn’t see Winks for a couple of weeks after that, but it isn’t intentional. He just gets really busy at work, and Dele coincidentally has to go away for a week to Ibiza - he insists that it’s for work too, but Eric is still pretty dubious about how much “influencer” really counts as a job. Especially since Dele only has a few thousand followers. Still, this means he doesn’t see Winks for two weeks, and he would have hoped this meant that he would stop thinking about him, and maybe even get over him. Of course, this isn’t the case. If anything, it’s gotten worse. Worse to the point where Eric actually had a guilty wank the other day in the shower imagining what would have happened if Harry wouldn’t have called the house phone. Imagining how he would have kissed Winks, dragged him out of the pool, slid down those bright pink swimming trunks and fucked him then and there on the sunlounger. 

When he hears that Dele is back, he is desperate to invite himself around again, but manages to hold off for two days. Luckily, just when he’s about to crack and invent another reason to go round to Dele’s, Dele sends him a string of panicked texts.

_ Dietttt xxx _

_ Do me a favor :((( _

_ I thought H was asking me on a date so I said yes but he jst told me his mates r coming so u gotta come too _

_ For drinks _

_ 2night _

_ Im such a dick lol  _

_ Ofc it wasnt a date _

_ Ughh  _

_ Text me back _

_ What u doin _

_ Dieeeeet _

_ Pls come xxxxxxxx _

Eric rolls his eyes. They’re both so frustrating. He’s almost certain that Harry would have meant it as a date, and that they both just talked each other out of it. They’re the biggest pair of idiots that he’s ever known. He picks up his phone as if to reply, but then sighs and hits call instead. Dele’s easier to deal with on the phone than he is over text. 

“Del,” Eric starts, but he’s interrupted right away with Dele pleading with him. He has to fight to get heard again, and when he finally talks, Dele lets out the biggest sigh he’s ever heard. “Is anyone else coming? I don’t want to be third wheeling you two dicks all night.” 

“No,” Dele answers. “Well, H’s mates apparently. Whoever they are. Did you know he had other mates? Anyway,” he sighs again, “You can invite someone if you want. Jan or something. Just please.”

“What’s Winksy doing?” Eric asks, then curses himself. He didn’t even think that through before he asked. He hopes that Dele doesn’t think that’s weird. “It might be funny,” he adds quickly. “We can both take the piss out of you together.”

“Uh, I dunno,” Dele answers, and Eric grits his teeth at Dele’s slight confusion, telling himself he’s an idiot. “I’ll ask him. Oh wait - my phone’s on like one percent, can you call him?”

“I don’t have his n-”

“I texted him a couple of weeks ago from your phone. Text him! Seven tonight, at that bar near Harry’s with the dancefloor. Gotta go!”

Dele hangs up immediately, and Eric frowns down at his phone.

He takes a second to process it. He has Winks’ number. He’s had Winks’ number this whole time, Dele is the one who  _ gave  _ it to him, and now he has to text him and invite him for drinks. And he can’t help but feel just a little betrayed that he didn’t know about this earlier.

He deliberates on what to say for a moment or two but then just decides to keep it simple.

_ Hey Winksy. It's Eric. Dele is panicking about a date with Harry and wants me to go with him for support. Want to come with?  _ 😊

He hits send and goes to make a cup of tea so that he can distract himself instead of waiting for a reply. He boils the kettle and pulls out his I <3 My Labrador mug and then he can’t resist peeking at his phone. He smiles to himself when he sees that he’s already got three new notifications, and he makes his cup of tea before he allows himself to look.

_ hey eric! Xx _

_ I didnt kno u had my number lol _

_ yeah ill come what time _ 😁  _ xx _

Eric grins and settles down, eyeing the time on his watch. He still has a few hours before he has to get ready, and he doesn’t really have anything to do. So he’s more than happy at the recent discovery that he’s actually got Winks’ number, without having to overcome the guilt to ask. 

They text back and forth for a little while, Eric making two more cups of tea in the process, about Dele and Harry and about this “date” and about what they’ve both been up to. Winks has coincidentally been busy with his coursework, but he does (a little petulantly) say that he’s missed having company at his house. 

They then move on to talking about anything and everything, from Game of Thrones theories to the weather to how hungry Winks is and how Eric should probably order him some food. Eventually, the conversation comes back to their evening plans, and Winks asks Eric what he should wear. Eric is just about to tell Winks to wear whatever he wants, but then he bites his lip. He thinks about how hot it would be if he actually did tell Winks what to wear, and if Winks actually  _ wore  _ it. And he figures that it’s probably easy enough to play off as a joke, too, if Winks doesn’t play along. So he decides to text back, instructing Winks to wear a pair of black skinny jeans and a blue shirt.

Winks doesn’t miss a beat.

_ is navy ok? for the shirt? xx _

Eric texts back in agreement, and when Winks texts back saying “ _ okay xxx” _ all Eric can do is smirk. He can’t wait to see Winks in the clothes he picked out for him.

\--

Eric ends up running just a little late, and when he gets there, Harry, Dele and Winks are all already sat around a four seat booth. Eric raises his eyebrows when Dele looks up. None of Harry’s supposed friends are anywhere to be seen. Dele shakes his head imperceptibly and pulls a face behind Harry’s back. Eric guesses Harry’s friends mysteriously canceled, and he wants to roll his eyes. Dele is an idiot, and Harry is an idiot too. But then he looks past Dele to see Winks sat behind him, waving, and he can’t bring himself to be annoyed in the slightest. For once, he’s happy that Dele and Harry are idiots. Because it’s given him an excuse to hang out with Winksy. Harry gives him a nod, and Dele stands up to hug him, whispering: “Don’t say a fucking word,” meaning that Eric can slide past him and take the seat next to Winks. He sits down maybe a little too close to Winks, but it doesn’t matter, since Winks slides closer to him anyway and pats his arm in greeting. He doesn’t remove his hand until the drinks come, but thankfully no one really notices. Even better, no one notices the way Eric can’t take his eyes off Winks, dressed in the outfit that Eric picked out for him and just looking  _ so _ fucking good.

It just gets worse the drunker they get, but luckily, Dele and Harry are getting just as steadily drunk as they are, and are wrapped up in their conversation planning a trip to Venice. They both seem to think it’s not really going to happen, laughing about how expensive it would be and how funny and silly it would be if they just randomly booked a holiday while drunk, but then at around ten o’clock, everything changes. Harry books the pair of them flights for two weeks away, and Eric is convinced he sees Dele’s eyes tearing up just a little bit. 

After this, Dele will  _ not  _ leave Harry alone, whether he’s following him to the bar or dragging him to the dancefloor or even grabbing his arm and practically sitting on his lap when the pair of them come back to the booth. The only times he’s forced to leave Harry alone are when Harry goes to the bathroom, and Dele always just finds his way back to Eric and Winks to tell them yet again that: “Isn’t Harry the best? I think he’s my favourite person.”

The third time this happens, Eric and Winks laugh right in his face, but Dele doesn’t even notice, too busy mooning over Harry, scrolling back through their texts and grinning to himself. He’s up within seconds when Harry gets back, and Eric and Winks look at each other and smile.

They’re having a great time. It’s remarkably easy to chat to Winksy, and they haven’t ran out of things to talk about even for a second. When Dele walks away, Winks giggles and asks Eric if they should be offended that they’re not Dele’s favourite people. Eric rolls his eyes and tells Winks that they both lost their joint title in second year when Harry got dared to take his shirt off at pre drinks.

“It was all downhill from there,” Eric shakes his head with a dramatic sigh. “Abs clearly mean more to Dele than loyalty.”

They carry on chatting, and at one point, when Eric is telling Winks about how he wanted to be an astronaut when he was younger, Winks places his hand on top of his. Eric pauses in his story, but Winks is blushing and his eyes are pleading, so he carries on with his story. Carefully, he shifts their fingers just enough that they’re basically holding hands, and Winks’ pleased grin is enough to make Eric feel like coming out tonight was all worth it. 

When it’s time to leave, Harry orders three taxis. Dele looks up at him with a bit of a pout and then gets a little moody, staring down into his drink. Eric doesn’t really pay much attention, because he’s too busy making Winks laugh with some of his best (and worst) literature puns. He’s just about to tell him one about Thoreau when he hears Dele pipe up again.

“You want me to go back to yours?”

Eric raises his eyebrows, and Winks nudges him. Eric turns around to look at him and they both grin at each other and waggle their eyebrows. Eric knows that it’s definitely an innocent request, that the most Dele and Harry will do is cuddle each other to sleep, but he can’t help but hope that it’s more. If nothing else, Dele desperately, desperately needs to get laid. If Eric has to hear about Dele’s porn preferences one more time he’s afraid that he’s going to end up having to watch them with him. And that might really throw a spanner in the works in his potential relationship with Winks. 

He glances at Winks as he thinks about that word -  _ relationship _ \- and Winks is just grinning at Dele, his whole face glowing with happiness, and he swallows around a lump in his throat. He really does want a relationship with Winks. He wishes that this didn’t have to be so complicated. 

Winks suddenly turns back at him and looks at him expectantly, and Eric blinks at him before he realises Dele is looking at him the same way.

“Uh…” he starts, and Dele rolls his eyes and interrupts him.

“Would you mind making sure Baby Winks gets home safe? Like get the taxi to drop him off first?”

Eric is only just nodding when Winks starts to speak.

“You could stay over,” he suggests. “You know, in Dele’s bed. It will be free. If you want.”

Eric knows that that’s an incredibly dangerous proposition, and so he doesn’t give Winks a proper answer, just smiles at him and reassures Dele.

“I’ll look after Winksy.”

Dele laughs.

“You let him call you that?” he asks Winks, and Eric stares at him in confusion. “Winksy,” Dele clarifies. “You don’t let anyone call you that except me.”

Eric hadn’t even realised he had called him that, but now he looks over and Winks is blushing and shrugging, looking down at the table. Eric laughs it off but internally his heart is pounding. He just knows - he  _ knows _ that Winksy likes him just as much as he likes Winks. He stares at him and all he wants is to be able to go home with him tonight, but he knows he can’t. 

He doesn’t even end up going in the house, not trusting himself to get too comfortable and too horny and to stay over and get Winks on his knees for him. He can barely resist doing it in the taxi, especially when he tells Winks that he isn’t coming in. Winks looks disappointed for a second, but suddenly his expression completely shifts. 

He looks remarkably like Dele for a second. Eric knows that that’s ridiculous - they’re adopted - but it’s just true. It’s the pure mischief in his eyes and the little smirk. And it fills Eric with the same sense of foreboding that Dele’s mischievous gaze always does too. 

“Okay,” Winks says, and he leans in to hug Eric. “Goodnight then.” 

They hug, but then Winks pulls back he cups Eric’s face with his hands. Eric’s breath catches, knowing that if Winks kisses him he’s definitely not going to be able to resist making out with him, but Winks just leans in and gives him a quick peck on the lips before he leans back and grins.

He climbs out of the car before Eric can say anything, and Eric has to yell “goodnight!” after him when Winks turns round and gives him a little wave. When the taxi rolls away - after Winks has entered the house - Eric pulls out his phone to text him. 

_ Your a nightmare x _

_You looked nice tonight by the way. Nice outfit choice_ 😉 _x_

He doesn’t even have to wait a second before Winks texts him back.

_ thanks eric xxx _

_ u looked really hot too _

_ rly hot _

_ I wish u would have stayed over lol xxx _

Eric inhales sharply. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself from asking Winks why he wishes he would have stayed. He even goes up to two kisses, knowing instinctively that while it seems meaningless to him, Winks will really appreciate it. Winks beats around the bush a little bit, thankfully, but makes it clear to anyone who has any basic analytic skills that he’s turned on and that he wants Eric to: “ _ help me lol xxx”. _

Eric keeps the flirting as light as he possibly can, and when he eventually decides he has to go to sleep, because it’s four in the morning and he’s getting exhausted, he texts Winks and tells him to have sweet dreams. Winks’ responding text makes him groan out loud.

_ Oh i will lol xxxx _

He desperately wants to reply and get Winks to tell him everything he wants Eric to do to him, but he knows it’s not a good idea, and he really does need to sleep, so with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, he turns his WiFi off and locks his phone. 

He doesn’t let himself reply tonight, but cuts a deal with himself instead and allows himself to fall asleep and dream about Winks all night long instead. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm home and I'm working (gross!!!) so that's why this has taken a little long to come out as well!! I hope it's worth the wait <3

From that day forward, Eric and Winks text pretty much constantly. Eric spends far too much time on his phone at work, and Winks must never go to any lectures at all because Winks is always active, always replies to anything Eric says within seconds, even if Eric isn’t done talking. They add each other on Snapchat, too, and Winks takes to sending him a Snap on the hour, every hour. They’re always selfies, and they start with grins and peace signs and that stupid dog filter, but then somewhere down the line they start to evolve. Eric always looks forward to Winks’ snaps, and he doesn’t send as many - that would be nearly impossible - but he does send a few a day, to try and maintain their “streak,” because this is apparently something that’s highly important to Winks.

When their streak reaches seven days, Winks sends him a video. It’s Sunday morning, and Eric is just sat downstairs with his roommate Jan eating breakfast, but he finds himself making an excuse to leave so that he can go and watch the video in peace. Jan looks up at him oddly, since Eric has only eaten a bite of his eggs, but Eric just ignores him and walks out of the room. He knows it won’t be anything too explicit, but he can’t be one hundred percent certain, and he needs to look right now. His breakfast can wait.

It’s not explicit, but he’s shirtless, and he’s blowing a kiss to the camera. The caption is “Happy Anniversary 😘 xxx” and there’s little hearts all around his head like a crown. Eric doesn’t even debate it for a second before he’s opening up the camera to reply, and angling the camera so that Winks can see he’s shirtless too. He even tugs his joggers down just a little bit, making sure that Winks can see how low down they’re riding on his hips.

That seems to be the point of no return. 

After that, Winks’ snaps get flirtier and flirtier until the 4pm snap comes through, and Winks is still shirtless, but now he’s only in his boxers too. And he’s most definitely hard. Eric spends at least five minutes debating what to do, and as the time passes he thinks about what he imagines Winks is doing right now. What Winks is doing, practically naked, with his dick hard and probably leaking and  _ god,  _ he can’t even handle it. He clicks on Winks’ contact forcefully and hits the call button.

They never talk like this, have never once phoned each other, but Eric is just struck with this burning desire to hear him. He has to hear him, has to talk to him, has to listen. 

Winks answers immediately, like he always does with the texts, and while he sounds normal as he chats to Eric about his essay that he wrote today, every so often Eric hears his breath hitch and every time it happens he clenches his fist, feeling himself getting more and more turned on every time. 

He decides to test it, and when Winks tells him that he finished his essay today, Eric congratulates him, then very carefully tells him that he’s a “good boy.”

He’s not disappointed by the reaction he receives. Winks clearly tries to muffle it, but his answering whimper definitely doesn’t go unnoticed, and the sound goes straight to Eric’s dick. Eric had known, he didn’t know how, but he’d just known that would work. He knew that Winks would want to be a good boy, would want to be praised, would want to be good for him. He wants to make Winks be good for him. He wants it so bad. Eric knows he can’t resist any longer and he puts his hand in his boxers, feeling himself up as he carries on talking to Winks.

“What are you doing Winksy?” He asks in the voice he normally uses at work when he tries to discipline his team. He wonders if it will affect Winks at all. He thinks that it might. 

“Um, talking to you,” Winks says, all breathy. 

Eric smirks. He’s pretty certain the voice did affect Winks, if the way he’s breathing so heavily down the phone is any indication. 

“And what are you doing while you talk to me?”

Winks tries his best to beat around the bush, but in the end he can’t help himself any longer, and one quiet “ _ fuck _ ” is the word that breaks the dam. Winks starts to tell Eric absolutely everything. What he’s doing, what he’s thinking about, what he wishes Eric was doing to him. He asks Eric point blank what he’s doing, too, and Eric tells him honestly, getting a little carried away himself.

“I’m touching myself Winks. I’m thinking of you.” 

He adjusts the hand holding the phone slightly, and in the pause he hears Winks moan.

“I’m thinking of spanking your pretty little arse.” He starts again, “I’m thinking of fucking you, I’m thinking of coming all over your pretty freckles and your pretty pink cheeks. You want that, baby girl? You want me to come all over your face? In your mouth?”

He barely finishes his sentence before Winks is moaning loudly, choking the words “yes,” and “Eric,” and “fuck,” and “please,” and then suddenly Winks goes silent. Eric thinks that maybe the reception has gone, but then he hears Winks’ breaths on the other side of the line, and he figures it out.  _ Winks just came for him.  _ The realisation kicks his arousal into overdrive, and he’s powerless to stop himself from coming all over his freshly washed sheets too. 

He doesn’t really know what to say, so he just asks Winks if he’s okay. Winks says yes, then there’s a beat of silence, before Winks says that he should probably go. They hang up, and Eric is gutted about how awkward that was. He’s worried that things are going to be different now, that they’re going to be awkward with each other, that maybe that was a really bad decision. He hopes he didn’t make Winks feel too uncomfortable. 

He looks at his phone. He watches the clock tick from 4:59 to 5:00, and is startled when the phone vibrates in his palm. It’s a new snap from Winks. On the hour. Just like normal. It’s just a snap of the Netflix home screen, and the caption reads: “what shud i watch??? Xx” and Eric breathes a sigh of relief. They’re going to be normal. They’re going to be fine. 

\--

The next day, Dele begs Eric to come shopping with him for new clothes for his big Venetian weekend with Harry. Eric really hates shopping with Dele - normally one of Dele's other friends will go with him, and more recently, Harry has been bearing the burden of accompanying Dele on shopping sprees - but he knows that Dele wants his advice and is actually freaking out a bit, so he can't refuse him. Especially when Dele is giving him those puppy eyes. He finds himself thinking it can't be that bad, that he's exaggerated it in his head, that shopping with Dele can't be as bad as he remembers.

Two hours in, and he’s come to the realisation that it really _ really  _ is as bad as he remembers. If anything, it’s worse, because Dele is so keyed up about the holiday and is desperate to look good for Harry. Dele tries every single item of clothing on, and takes three sizes of each “just in case.” He goes in every shop twice, circling back just to make sure, and he won’t buy anything on the first go because he thinks he might find something better. He asks for opinions on everything, from the fit to the exact shade to the way it makes him  _ seem -  _ and this goes for dress shirts to jumpers to shorts to jeans. Eric is never really sure what to say, especially when Dele tries on four identical pairs of jeans and asks if they make him seem like a cool guy, if they make him seem dateable, if they would make Eric want to leave his girlfriend for him, because they’re just  _ jeans -  _ but thankfully, there’s someone else there with them. 

Winks is there, and that’s a blessing in more ways than one. He gives Dele much more in depth opinions about his clothes, seems to actually mean some of his comments, even going as far as to say: “the pink salmon one says you’re boyfriend material. The barbie pink one says you’re friends with benefits.” Eric has no idea what that even means, but Dele seems happy with it, and Eric is happy to have Dele off his back for a bit. It’s also just nice to have Winks around, and whenever Dele goes into the changing rooms for ten minutes at a time or insists on going back to another shop, he and Winks chat and flirt and talk about what they think will happen in the new series of Game of Thrones. He lets Winks gush about Jon Snow and Daenerys and how perfect they are, and tries not to be too negative in his responses, because for once, he doesn’t agree with Winks at all. He even lets Winks speculate on some truly outrageous theories, but when he suggests that he thinks that Robb Stark is still alive and will end up on the Iron Throne after he kills Jon Snow, he has to step in.

“Winks I’m sorry but really - how the fuck do you figure that one out? I can just about handle Daenerys being a secret Lannister, like at least she’s  _ blonde,  _ and I can sort of get the whole the Mountain is the Night King thing, sort of, but -”

He stops short when Winks bursts out laughing, holding his hand over his mouth and holding Eric’s arm to steady himself. 

“I can’t believe -” he says through laughter. “I can’t believe you thought I believed all that. You must think -” he laughs again, and tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. “You must think I’m such an idiot.” 

“What?” Eric asks, “You don’t? Any of it?”

Winks shakes his head, and Eric actually feels a deep sense of relief. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he can be a little bit of a snob when it comes to Game of Thrones, and while it didn’t make him want or like Winks any less, the idea that Winks believed those theories did make him just a little bit disappointed. 

“I wanted to see how much you’d let me get away with,” Winks says with a cheeky grin. “Turns out you’ll let me get away with a lot.”

It’s true. Not just with Game of Thrones lore, but with anything - Eric would let him get away with murder. He nods, and he knows that his eyes are giving away exactly what he’s thinking. That he would let Winks get away with whatever he wanted.

Winks gets that mischievous look again, and he glances back to the changing rooms and then back to Eric. He grabs Eric’s arm.

“Let’s go,” he whispers. “Just for a bit.”

He’s looking at Eric imploringly, as if Eric hasn’t been absolutely praying for an excuse to leave the expensive, white-walled asylum looking shop for the past forty minutes, and when Eric doesn’t answer right away, he bats his eyelashes.

“Please?”

Eric glances back at the dressing room too and pretends to consider it, but he can’t help himself from grinning before he even fully turns back to Winks. 

“Let’s go,” Eric winks. “We’ll be back before Dele tries on all the shirts.” 

Winks doesn’t let go of his arm as he leads him insistently to the food court, telling him the whole way about the ice cream sundaes they do here. He insists that they’re the best sundaes in the world, and Eric doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the best sundaes in the world probably aren’t in a shopping centre food court. 

They order a “Valentine’s” sundae, even though it’s the middle of summer, because Winks wants to share and because it has strawberry ice cream and sauce, which is Winks’ favourite, and ferrero rochers, which are Eric’s. They start chatting about Dele and Harry’s trip, and the conversation turns to where they would both like to visit. They both reveal that they want to go to Bucharest, because of the museums and the Old Town and all the little bookstores, and Eric doesn’t think too much about it before he tells Winks that they can go one day.

Winks stares at him, lips parted, before he snaps his jaw shut and a wide grin spreads across his face. 

“Yeah,” Winks says, nodding. “That will be nice. One day.” 

They don’t get a chance to plan it any further than that, and Eric isn’t sure if that’s a blessing or a curse, because Dele rings him, demanding to know where they are. He has narrowed it down to sixteen outfits and he needs them to help him pick the final four. Eric groans, and Dele’s voice softens a little through the phone.

“Sorry,” Dele says, “I know it’s been ages. But I need your help. Won’t be much longer, I promise.”

Eric nods, then realises that Dele can’t see him.

“It’s alright, Del boy. We’re gonna come back now.”

“Thanks, Diet. You’re the best.”

Dele hangs up, and Eric and Winks go upstairs and help Dele narrow it down. They end up with four shirts, two t-shirts, four pairs of shorts, two pairs of swimming shorts, a new pair of jeans, a new pair of dress shoes and three pairs of trainers. Eric doesn’t want to bring up the fact he’s only going for a long weekend, but it’s as if Dele can sense it when he notices Eric’s expression, and turns to him defensively. 

“I like options, Diet.”

Winks turns round and nods, agreeing.

“Yeah, day and night. Different vibes,” he glances at Eric, looking a little surprised. “Obviously.” 

Dele grins and sticks his tongue out at Eric, nudging Winks until he does the same. 

“Yeah, Diet. Obviously,” he ruffles Winks’ hair. “It’s nice having you on my side, bro.”

Winks turns to Dele and hugs him, and Eric watches in two minds. On the one hand, this is the cutest thing ever, and he’s really happy to see Dele reunited with his brother, because it clearly makes the pair of them so happy. On the other hand, the guilt in his chest is rearing its ugly head again once more. He honestly doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this, feeling so guilty and horrible all of the time. But then Winks turns back to him and smiles softly, and there’s a little tug on his heart that tells him that he would go on with it forever, if only so that he could see Winks smile like that again. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! I apologise so much in advance for how this chapter ends....   
> And I know it's been a while but don't worry I have the next chapter almost ready <3   
> Hope you guys enjoy!!!   
> P.S I've just had to up the chapter limit because I've gotten farrrrr too carried away with this chapter and the next!!! You're getting two extra chapters now <3

Eric knew that he would be sleeping over at Dele’s the night before Venice before Dele even bothered to ask him because,  _ obviously.  _ When Dele goes to ask, making up some excuse about how Eric needs to lock up because Winks is a late sleeper, Eric shushes him and tells him he’ll be round at six with a takeaway.  They have an early night, and Eric plays with Dele’s hair until he falls asleep, and decides not to tell Dele that he hears him say Harry’s name in his sleep. 

Dele’s alarm goes off at 5:43 AM, because he can never set it for a specific time, and Eric has to nudge Dele three times before Dele finally wakes up with a groan. 

“Hey,” Eric mumbles, “Turn it off.”

Dele closes his eyes again and Eric rolls his eyes and half-heartedly slaps him. 

“You’re not going to keep Harry waiting, are you?”

One of Dele’s eyes cracks open immediately, and it looks like he takes a second to process what Eric said before he starts to move, groaning as he sits up. There’s actually a lot less whining than usual, and Dele pulls his clothes on in relative silence. They’re comfortable enough with each other that Eric does nothing more than roll his eyes when Dele realises that he’s packed all his best underwear and spends the next minute or so stark naked searching for a pair of his “travelling boxers.” He’s reminded though, not for the first time, that Dele definitely has more money than he has sense if he has a set of boxers for every occasion. 

Despite the boxers mishap, Dele is ready in time, and Eric helps him with his massive suitcase to the car. He feels more than a little vindicated when Harry laughs and reminds Dele that they’re only going for a few days. Harry takes the case from him and loads it into the boot of his car, and Eric eyes him with a smirk, taking in his appearance. It’s just after 6 o’clock, yet Harry’s hair is carefully styled to look just a  _ little  _ messy, and he’s wearing the shirt Dele got him for Christmas. Eric is willing to bet that if he got close enough to smell him, he’d be wearing the cologne Dele had complimented too. He can’t believe that Dele doesn’t think his feelings are reciprocated. Harry is so obviously into him. He gives Harry a one armed hug goodbye, just about refraining from warning Harry to take care of him like some sort of protective big brother (a thought which he steadfastly ignores as soon as he has it, because,  _ no)  _ and saves the teasing for Dele.

“Be careful,” he whispers, and he slips a condom into the back pocket of Dele’s jeans. Dele pushes him off, blushing as he climbs into the car, and Eric just grins and waves them off.

“Have fun!” he calls, and while Dele pretends to ignore him, he gets a text before he’s back in the house.

_ Ur a dick lol  _ 🙄 

_ thanks tho _

_ For staying over and stuff too  _

_ X _

He smiles and types out a quick: “ _ Always. Safe flight! And have fun! And you have to tell me if your present gets used  _ 😉  _ x _ ” before he boils the kettle. He’s sort of at a loose end as it’s so early in the day. He thinks he could probably go for a run, and probably should, but that just seems like a lot of effort. He opens Dele’s fridge, and is relieved to find it fully stocked with breakfast foods, with a little post-it note on top of the bacon. Curious, he picks it up to read it, and smiles and shakes his head.

_ Thanks for breakfast Eric ;) see you in a few hours lol xxx _

There’s a little heart in the corner, then, squashed right at the bottom in tiny handwriting:

_ ( From Winks ) _

He laughs out loud, and glances up at the ceiling where he assumes Winks is sleeping on the other side. He’s adorable. As if he wouldn’t know who he was. Winks might be the only person to ever text him with more than one kiss when he’s not even being sarcastic. 

Eric smiles as he’s cooking them both breakfast, catching himself humming I Wanna Dance With Somebody which just happens to be Winks’ favourite song, then, when breakfast is done, he even finds himself reading Winks’ favourite book.

By the time Winks comes down, it’s Christmas at Hogwarts and Hermione is trying to find out who exactly Nicholas Flamel is. He’s so caught up in the book that he doesn’t realise Winks is there until Winks puts his hands on his shoulders, startling him so much that he shouts, almost spilling his tea all down himself.

“Are you okay?” Winks asks, but his concerned tone is sort of ruined by the giggling. 

Eric doesn’t reply for a minute because he’s too focused on looking at what Winks is wearing. A full pyjama style football kit with a little bird on it. Eric isn’t sure who it is - doesn’t pay attention to football whatsoever - but he thinks the little bird might be Liverpool. Although he had a sneaking suspicion that Liverpool was red, so he’s really not sure. He decides he will try and bring it up subtly later and try and impress him. He had no idea Winks was into football or he would have tried to do a bit of research. But regardless, the fact Winks is dressed in the full kit is adorable anyway, and Eric can’t help but hope that the shorts are nice and tight on the ass. 

“Morning, Winksy,” he says when he finally stops staring. “How did you sleep?” 

Winks tells him all about his dream, where he was in Russia but it wasn’t really Russia, and Eric was there but he wasn’t really Eric, but he was, and Eric half-listens enough to pick out the important bits, humming and smiling and nodding. Part-way through the story, Eric gets up to warm Winks’ breakfast through and make them both a cup of tea, and he only just manages to catch: “and then we kissed,” and he stops in his tracks, trying to piece together the story from the bits he listened to. By the time he’s worked it out, that not-Eric kissed Winks in the snow (which Eric thinks means they were almost certainly freezing to their deaths), Winks has finished, and is looking at his phone.

“Will Dele have landed?” he asks, and Eric checks the time.

“Don’t think so. Hey, wanna track his flight? We can watch him.” 

Winks grins, and they get Dele’s flight map up on his laptop. They see that they’re currently over Switzerland, which means they’re almost there. Winks happily stares at the map for the next ten minutes, alternating between informing Eric where they are and texting Dele live updates even though Dele won’t be able to see them for another half an hour at least. He poses for a selfie at one point, and when Eric glances over he blushes a bit.

“Hey, don’t look!” he protests, and Eric laughs and turns back around, plating up Winks’ breakfast for him and bringing it over. 

When he sits down, he checks his phone to see he has a new Snapchat notification and grins. He should’ve guessed. It  _ did _ just turn 11, after all. 

“You’re cute.”

“I know,” Winks shrugs, but he has a small smile and pink cheeks, “Thanks for making breakfast. Did you see my note?”

“Yes,” Eric smiles and ruffles his hair. “And guess what?”

Winks twists round in his seat to look back up at him.

“What?”

Eric gives his hair a playful tug.

“You’re cute.”

\--

It’s so hot outside that it’s almost unbearable, and Eric settles into his seat in the shade, setting Harry Potter down on the table with a jug of pina colada that Winks had insisted they make. He looks across the pool at Winks who is throwing his t-shirt on the floor and rolling his swimming trunks up at the bottom. Eric just barely resists rolling his eyes. It’s such a Dele move - trying to get as tanned as possible. Dele had once been sunbathing absolutely naked and had given Eric no warning for it, and when Eric, understandably, was a little shocked, Dele just told him to “grow up” and asked him to put suncream on his ass. Eric finds himself wanting Winks to do the same, knowing that this time he would definitely not run back inside the house and pretend to be sick. 

“Eric could you please do my suncream?”

Eric thinks for a second that his fantasy has just come true, then realises he’s being an idiot and that Winks just wants him to do his back. He’s only just sat down, but he gets up with a grunt and nods, walking over to Winks.

Winks smiles apologetically and thanks him, and turns round. Eric suddenly has an idea.

“Hey, why don’t you lie down? Get yourself comfortable.”

Winks nods slowly, and carefully lies down on the bed, face first. Eric takes a second to appreciate the view, imagining Winks was pushed up a little on his knees and that his shorts were pulled down a little. He could really spread the sun cream all over him. Make sure he was completely covered. Just to be safe.

Winks wriggles a bit as he settles down, and Eric has to shut his eyes for a second to control himself. He takes a deep breath and squeezes more than enough sun cream onto his palms, then he kneels over Winks, making sure that he tilts his hips up enough that Winks won’t be able to feel him sat there. He knows that would be taking it too far, and it’s too early in the day for Eric to already want to fuck him.  _ Fucking is for after dinner,  _ he tells himself. And they’ve only just had breakfast.

He starts by rubbing the cream into Winks’ shoulders, digging his thumbs in and applying just enough pressure that it starts to become a massage more than anything else. Winks seems to be enjoying it, and the little hum of appreciation he lets out convinces Eric to go a bit further with it. Eric massages down Winks’ back, admiring how tanned and even how muscular it is - Winks’ small frame is definitely deceiving - and when he gets to the small of Winks’ back he feels him go still. He applies a little more pressure, then runs his fingers up Winks’ sides then back down, causing him to shiver. He goes back to the dip of Winks’ back and presses in again, dancing down just enough that he brushes his fingertips against the waistband of his shorts, and Winks arches into his touch, letting out what Eric can only describe as a whimper. Eric stills, and remembers his self-imposed rule, and perfunctorily rubs the last bit of cream in on Winks’ neck before proclaiming his work to be done.

“Thanks,” Winks says, but it’s more of a croak than anything else, and that makes Eric smirk for a while. Winks puts his headphones in and starts to sunbathe, and Eric once again gets lost in the book. He would actually be embarrassed about getting this into Harry Potter, but he tells himself it’s because it’s Winks’ favourite book. That’s definitely the only reason. Except that he hasn’t even talked to Winks yet and he’s not put it down. 

He’s almost so lost in it that he doesn’t realise Winks getting in the pool, but then when he does realise, it’s like the book doesn’t exist. He ends up putting it down, instead wanting to enjoy the view - Winks’ golden skin shining in the sunlight, his hair getting wet and messy and his strong arms propelling him through the water. 

Winks must notice his eyes on him, because after ten minutes he turns to look at him and grins.

“If you get bored of watching you can come and join me.” 

He winks at Eric and turns onto his back to swim another lap, and by the time he makes it to the deep end, Eric is waiting there to jump in. 

“Sorry,” Winks says, “I’ll give you some room.”

He shuffles back maybe half an inch, and Eric rolls his eyes and gestures for him to shoo a bit farther back. Winks grins cheekily and moves back another half inch, and this goes on back and forth until Eric just finally says “Fine,” and cannonballs into the pool. He doesn’t ever do a cannonball - that’s more Dele’s style - but he’s feeling childish and playful and Winks’ answering peals of laughter are like music to his ears. 

They chat a little bit and swim a couple of laps, and Eric tries to subtly bring up football, as he did a bit of research as he was reading earlier. Liverpool had beaten a club called “Spurs” 2-1, and so he figures Winks must be pretty happy about that.

“Good match last night, right?” 

Winks laughs. 

“Yeah, maybe in the last few minutes. Rest was shit.”

Eric’s a bit lost. He doesn’t really understand why only the last few minutes would be good, unless that’s when Liverpool managed to score the goal. He doesn’t really know what to say, so he just says the one other thing he learned: “Up the reds, yeah?”

Winks pulls a face.

“You’re a Liverpool fan?”

“Yeah,” Eric falters, looking at Winks’ expression and assuming that Winks maybe thinks he’s not a real fan. He decides he needs to be more emphatic. “Fuck the Spurs.”

Winks frowns and crosses his arms, and Eric panics. He’s never seen Winks not smile for this long, and he’s deeply regretting ever bringing the subject up. He doesn’t know why his comments are being received this badly, but he’s assuming that he might just not know enough about football. Does 2-1 not mean what he think it means? Did they want a tactical loss? He’s completely lost.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Winks says bluntly, but he is still set solidly in an annoyed posture, and is at least five paces away from Eric now. “Just thought, you know. You’re from London. You’d support a proper London team. But whatever.”

“Yeah,” Eric says, “I thought that about you, too. It’s fine though, right?” He tries for a laugh, but Winks just looks even more annoyed.

“You saying we’re not a proper London team?”

Eric is completely and entirely lost. He has no idea what Winks means. Liverpool is miles away from London. And, besides, Winks said it first. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just makes one last ditch attempt to smooth things over.

“I just liked your kit,” he starts, “This morning. It’s cute. You’re so proud of your team. It’s nice.”

Winks stares at him. 

“Are you taking the piss?” 

Eric shakes his head emphatically, but Winks’ answering stare doesn’t get any softer until Eric finally has enough and has to take it all back. He can’t take another second of Winks being mad at him. He didn’t even know it was possible but it’s the worst feeling he thinks he’s ever felt.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Look, I don’t even know anything about football. I just looked it up earlier because I wanted to talk to you about it, and I saw your Liverpool kit and-”

Winks stops him.

“Liverpool kit? Wait,” he shakes his head, and the beginnings of a smile appears on his face. “You think I’m a Liverpool fan? This is what all this -” he gestures with his hands wildly. “Has been about?” 

Eric nods, and Winks breaks into laughter that sounds relieved.

“Oh god,” he laughs. “You couldn’t have picked a worse game to try and bond with me about.” 

Eric still doesn’t know what’s going on, but he laughs too, because Winks’ laugh is infectious and also he is so happy that Winks is no longer mad at him. Winks stops laughing and then grins and explains.

“I’m a Spurs fan. It’s a Spurs kit. Oh god, you’re so funny. You thought that was Liverpool?”

_ Oh.  _ He thinks. That explains a lot. He shrugs and protests that he’s never watched a match in his life, but Winks just keeps shaking his head and laughing. He starts to edge closer to Eric again, and Eric is so happy about it that he grabs him and pulls him closer. 

“It’s nice,” Winks says, and he slides his thigh between Eric’s own again. “That you tried.” 

Eric puts his fingers in Winks’ hair and uses his other hand to hold Winks against his hip. 

“I wanted to impress you.” 

Winks smiles, and looks genuinely touched. He stares up at Eric for a second, seems to be looking at his lips, then his own lips set in a determined line.

“I touched myself last night,” Winks says, sliding his thigh up higher. “Thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you. All the time. I’m obsessed with you.” 

Winks steps impossibly closer, and Eric can feel how hard he is against his thigh. Winks stares at his lips again, and Eric uses his hold on his hair to bring him in for a kiss. Immediately, Winks is licking at his lips insistently, and Eric lets him lick into his mouth. He finds his hand that was on Winks’ hip slowly coming to rest on his ass, using it to pick him up and shift him so that their dicks brush against each other through their trunks. 

Winks groans and kisses him desperately, clutching Eric’s neck and shoulders and trying over and over again to push against him. 

Eric is the one to pull away, and Winks whines until Eric gives him another kiss. And another. And then they’re making out again, and Eric squeezes Winks’ ass and pulls his hair a little, and the noises are just so fucking good that Eric can barely even think straight. He pulls away again, and this time manages to stay strong even as Winks leans in again and whines.

“Inside?” Eric suggests, and Winks nods, looking a bit dazed. 

Eric lifts Winks out of the pool then pulls himself up too, then Winks grips his hand tightly as they walk inside. Winks doesn’t let go of his hand even as they sit down on the sofa, and Eric fiddles with the remote for a second, trying to ignore the way Winks is staring at him hungrily as he searches for something to watch.

_ Gotta have dinner first,  _ he keeps telling himself.  _ No sex before dinner.  _

He glances over at Winks, sees how dark his eyes look, all hooded and intense, and immediately has to look away. He can’t resist for much longer.

“Hey,” he starts. “You hungry?”

He doesn’t even get the last word out before Winks is straddling his lap and kissing him again, his body still wet from the pool, and Eric can’t get a coherent thought in his head, except how hot Winks is. He wants to fuck him so badly. He spares one thought for his resolution that has gone out of the window. 

_ Fuck _ dinner.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait and I'm sorry if it's not worth the wait and ahhh I'm stressed I hope u guys enjoy and I love u all for reading and I love u thanks bye

Everything happens in a blur. 

Somehow, Winks ends up on his knees. Then he’s mouthing at Eric through his trunks. Then he’s tugging on them, and suddenly his mouth is all over him. Eric can’t keep a coherent thought in his head. He just keeps thinking about how Winks is made for this, how good Winks is, how hot his mouth feels, how good he looks with a cock in his mouth. At some point, Winks starts fingering himself, and then Eric is thinking about that. Thinking about how many fingers Winks is up to now, wondering if he’s going deep or if he’s curling his fingers, if he’s imagining it’s Eric’s fingers instead. He even finds himself every so often worrying if Winks is hungry and if they really should have eaten, but then Winks swirls his tongue or swallows or moans around his dick and the thought disappears. 

He knows he’s talking, doesn’t really know what he’s saying but he thinks he’s just saying Winks’ name over and over again, “Winksy” and “Winks” and even “Harry” - because even though Dele never calls him that, Eric has started thinking of him as Harry.  _ His  _ Harry. Dele has a Harry, and now Eric has his own.

He can feel Winks moan around his dick when he first calls him Harry, and he’s on the verge of coming down his throat when Winks pulls away.

Eric hears himself whine and wonders if he should be embarrassed about it, but Winks just climbs back up onto him, taking his fingers out of his ass. Winks kisses him, grabbing his face between his palms desperately, smearing his own precome down Eric’s face and leaving damp streaks on Eric’s cheeks, kissing him like his life depends on it. 

“Please,” Winks says, pulling back to bite Eric’s lip and hold it there between his teeth, letting out a whine in the back of his throat. “Please.” 

Eric brushes Winks’ hair out of his eyes, then kisses his cheek. 

“Please what, baby?” 

Winks’ face crumples as Eric calls him baby, and he desperately ruts his hips against Eric’s.

“Please. Please, please fuck me.”

Eric’s brain short-circuits as he thinks about just how desperately he wants that. He looks at Harry’s pleading expression and his kiss swollen lips and his messy hair, and he wants nothing more than to make him his. He glances just past Winks and his eyes find the fireplace, where, sat on top, is a picture of Dele and Eric from when Dele visited him on his semester abroad in Portugal. Eric wants to groan out loud. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he’s about to fuck Dele’s little brother. It’s not fair on Dele, and it’s not fair on Eric either. He hates having to feel anything but happiness in a moment like this, but he has to leave some room for guilt. 

The worst thing, by far, is how the guilt and the knowledge that it’s wrong only spurs him on. 

He fucks Winks much faster and harder than he ever wanted to on their first time, but this doesn’t seem to be a problem for Winks. He wraps his legs around Eric’s middle, pleading with him to go deeper and faster, and he leaves scratch marks down Eric’s back because of how tightly he clings to him. 

At one point, Winks is kissing his neck, and he bites down hard and sucks a love bite into his skin. It’s far too high up for Eric to be able to comfortably cover up, and he’s going to have to make up an excuse for Dele and for everyone, and for that, he pulls Harry’s hair.

“That was naughty,” he says, breathless, and Winks just nods and gasps.

“Sorry, daddy.” 

Eric spares maybe half a second to be ashamed of how much that turns him on before he starts coaxing Winks to call it him again, calling him a good boy and a pretty girl, and, when Harry is clearly on the edge, leaking precome all over himself and restlessly squirming on the bed, he tells him: “Come for me, princess.” 

It takes barely any time at all before Winks is coming all over himself, and Eric is very close behind, coming while he’s still deep in Winks’ ass. 

As soon as he comes back to himself, he feels a renewed wave of guilt hit him. He pulls out of Winks and they spend a few moments just breathing, Eric collapsing next to Winks before shuffling a little to the side to give him some space. They’re silent for a minute or so, and Eric glances at his phone to see the time. It’s officially dinner time, and Eric thinks about how he broke his own rule. Then he looks at his notifications and the several texts he’s received from Dele, and he thinks maybe he actually broke a more important rule.

“Erm,” Winks interrupts his inner monologue, looking concerned, “Are you okay?” 

Eric can feel his expression physically softening. The last thing he wants is to make Winks feel like he regrets anything about what just happened. It was the best sex he has ever had, and, far apart from that, he has come to realise over the past couple of weeks that he’s been steadily falling for Winks, day by day, minute by minute. He loves him so much. He wishes it wasn’t as complicated as it is, but he still doesn’t regret a single thing about falling for Winks. 

“I’m okay,” he reassures him. “Are you?”

Winks smiles and nods, and Eric suddenly has a deep yearning to do something romantic and to look after him. He wants Winks to know exactly how much he likes him, he needs Winks to know this wasn’t just a quick fuck. He leans in and kisses the top of Winks’ head.

“Go shower and get ready for bed. I’m gonna make us some food. Meet me near the pool when you’re finished, yeah?”

Winks smiles sleepily and picks himself up with some effort. He trudges upstairs and while he’s showering, Eric makes spaghetti carbonara, and even manages to find a garlic bread hiding at the back of the freezer, so pops that in too. He’d left a bottle of white wine at Dele’s a few weeks ago, too, and while he’s astonished to find that it’s still there, he’s grateful for it as he pours them both a glass. He takes it all out to the little table in the back garden, and asks Alexa to put the outside lights on low. He lights a candle on the table before he can think about how it might be a little too lame, and then he decides to set something else up too.

He brings out a bunch of blankets and pillows and lays them on the decking, and roots around in the kitchen cupboards to find his hidden snacks he keeps from Dele. He pulls all of them out - popcorn, fizzy sweets, chocolate, crisps - and takes them outside, lying them on the blanket. He brings out two of his own jumpers even though it’s a pleasant, warm evening, just in case it gets a little colder later. 

Just as he’s finished with that, the timer goes off on his phone and he realises dinner is done. He jogs back into the kitchen and gets everything out of the oven, and as he’s waiting for it to cool he goes to the bottom of the stairs to shout Harry down. To his surprise, Harry’s answering “Hey,” comes from outside, and it sounds delighted. That bit, Eric isn’t too surprised about, and makes him grin despite himself. 

“Do you need my help?” Harry says, poking his head back through the door, and Eric shakes his head and tells him to sit down. Eric notices he’s wearing Dele’s old Gucci joggers, and it makes his heart hurt a bit. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath and takes the food out to Winks, who is waiting with a big smile on his face, looking around at the wine, the candle, the blankets and the snacks, taking it all in. 

“Thank you,” he eventually says, the smile on his face painfully infectious. 

“Don’t need to thank me,” Eric says simply, and they grin at each other for a moment before Eric picks up his fork and starts to eat. 

He realises just how starving he’s been all this time once he starts to eat, and realises he really should have stuck to his rule. He can’t even hold a proper conversation with Winks, too concerned on getting the food into his stomach, but Winks doesn’t seem to mind. He can talk for England, and he does, telling Eric about his favourite lecturer and how they just make everything so  _ interesting  _ and telling him about how he hopes one day he can inspire people like that. 

Eric is happy to listen, taking it all in as he fills his stomach. Harry would be a great teacher, he thinks. He would want so badly for the students to do well, to explain himself properly, to make lessons fun and interesting with little side notes and anecdotes. Besides, he’s also a little in love with the idea of Winks with children. He’s never seen it for himself, but he just instinctively knows that he would be amazing with kids. 

They finish their dinner, and take their glasses of wine over to the makeshift bed Eric had set up for them. Winks looks a little worried about having glasses so near the pool - Eric’s boisterous and clumsy at the best of times, never mind if he’s getting kissed by Harry - and Eric has to reassure him that they’re plastic. He’s not really sure what Winks is expecting is going to happen, because he’s biting his lip and batting his eyelashes, and Eric can’t for the life of him try to summon up the energy to have sex again already, so he just strokes his hair gently and coaxes him to lie down beside him. 

He calls out for Alexa to turn the lights off, then they stare up at the sky. 

It’s a clear night, thankfully, and the stars are glowing brightly in their dark inky blanket. He looks over and sees that Harry is staring up at them with wide eyes.

“It’s so big,” Harry says, and his voice is trembling a bit. “The sky. The stars. Everything. It’s so big.” 

Eric takes his hand in his own and strokes the back of Harry’s hand with his thumb. 

“Yeah,” he says gently, then uses his other hand to point up at the stars. “That one, there - the bright one, can you see it?”

Harry nods, and holds Eric’s hand a little tighter.

“That’s Sirius. And if you sort of follow up from there, just up to the right, there’s three other stars, yeah? That’s the head. Then, go back down to the bright star. Follow it to the left, there’s a line, then another couple down below that line. Do you see that?” 

“Yeah,” Winks says softly.

“Well, it’s sort of - it’s meant to be like a dog? Can you see that?”

Harry frowns, turning his head on it’s side and assessing it. 

“Erm,” he turns his head to the side. “Sort of.” Then he physically brightens a little. “Hey, it’s Sirius, and it’s a dog! Like Sirius Black.” 

He turns to look at Eric, his smile wide and eyes bright, and Eric turns onto his side so that he can kiss him. They kiss gently and slowly, and Eric strokes Harry’s hair and kisses his cheeks, forehead and even the tip of his nose, making him giggle. 

Eric starts Googling the rest of the constellations because Canis Major was the only one he actually knew, and he wants to teach Winks more about it, just to see Winks look so open and earnest and pleased. 

They spend the rest of the night like this, Harry’s head on Eric’s chest, holding hands while Eric teaches him his newly found knowledge on the constellations, turning his head every so often so that they can kiss. They lie together under the stars for hours, and when they both start getting tired, Eric quickly checks the weather app on his phone. It’s going to be clear skies all night and morning, so he doesn’t feel so bad about it when Harry falls asleep on him, and he lets himself succumb to sleep as well. 


	8. Chapter 8

It is starting to become difficult for Eric to spend any time in Dele’s company at all. He’s never ever felt like that about Dele - being with him always felt like second nature, easy as breathing. And he feels it even more sharply when he’s at Dele’s house, sat on Dele’s couch where he fucked Dele’s brother - he just can’t do it. There’s only so many times he can swerve Dele’s plans to hang out before Dele has a tantrum, though, so he’s honestly relieved when the next time Dele asks to hang out, it’s to go clubbing. 

Clubbing with Dele is an experience every time, but this time, Dele wants to invite the old Uni crowd. This is fine, Eric thinks, because these nights always tend to follow a pretty strict timeline. All five of them will sit around in the booth and chat for an hour or so and reminisce about their uni days, then Dele will drag Harry to the dancefloor and while they grind on each other and play it off as a joke for two hours, Eric will chat with Jan and Trippier until they go home at about 2am and leave Eric to drink alone, waiting to take Dele home. Normally, he’d at least give Dele a bit of grief about it, and make him try to promise to not leave Eric alone for too long (a promise which Dele always breaks) but this time, he feels like he owes Dele this much. More. Much, much more.

He even dresses up nicely for the occasion, knowing that Dele will appreciate it. He wears his most expensive aftershave (that must have only been used around three times, because he doesn’t have enough “special occasions” to warrant it) and he unbuttons his shirt a little to show off his chest, since it’s apparently cooler that way. He even wears a tight pair of jeans, knowing that even though Dele definitely isn’t interested in him, that he still adores being able to make a big show out of checking out Eric’s ass when he wears them. Eric doesn’t love that quite as much as Dele does, mainly because of the pertinent reason Dele loves it: Harry’s jealous glares, which might make Dele feel special but just make Eric feel like he has to avoid Harry for a bit. It’s fine though. It’s harmless. It’s just a little bit awkward. 

It helps that Winks is out too, and is sending him snaps of how hot he looks. When Eric arrives at the club, he gets a snap from Winks of him in a tight black shirt, and his mouth is still running a little dry when he greets Dele, who gives an approving wolf whistle at his outfit. Right on cue, Harry’s eyebrows furrow, and instead of getting up to hug Eric like normal, he just gives him a nod. It feels like Harry means to do it when he asks Dele what his brother is up to tonight, but Eric knows that’s ridiculous. Dele’s answer, though, feels like a bit of a punch to the gut.

“He’s out with his mates...I hope he finally fucking gets with Ben, he definitely fancies him.” 

Eric’s face visibly drops, he can feel it, and he can’t help himself from picking up his phone immediately to text him.

_ Hey Winks. Hope your night is going well. You look super hot  _ 😘 _. Wish I was there with you baby xx _

_ Wanna meet up after this? Xx _

Both messages get delivered but not read, and Eric is even antsier than before. He knows rationally that Winks isn’t like that - that Winks is most definitely interested in Eric and would never get with someone else on a night out. The only niggling thing at the back of his mind are that they’re not together - he’s not asked Winks to be his boyfriend, they haven’t had any conversation of the sort. Technically, if Winks were to get with Ben, he wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. But the sheer jealousy thinking about it is still making Eric feel a mixture of nausea, fury and melancholy. 

He manages to put his phone down for ten minutes, but he can’t stop checking it after that. He checks it even as Jan is telling them all about his new girlfriend, who, for some reason, seems to be different than the rest - the fact Jan is referring to her as his  _ girlfriend  _ is enough - and Jan looks a little affronted when Eric ignores him to stare at his phone screen. 

Four more rounds in, Jan and Tripps are flagging, and Dele and Harry honestly look relieved. It’s like they must feel like they can’t go off and grind on each other in company, but with Eric there alone it’s perfectly fair game. It’s clear they are desperate to go out onto the dance floor and fake flirt until one of them combusts. Eric is actually pretty certain that they’re holding hands under the table. 

When Jan and Tripps leave, deciding to share a cab even though Tripps lives miles away (but he always likes to be the martyr) Dele only throws him one apologetic glance before he’s skipping up and dragging Harry away with him. Eric tries to keep an eye on them, out of boredom more than anything else, but he loses them in the crowd. The club is packed to the brim tonight, and Eric is sure that he could actually go out and look for them and not find them for a good half hour. He sighs and pours himself a glass from the wine bottle Jan had left behind and checks his phone again. He’s only a little embarrassed that his heart skips a beat when he sees he’s got 5 new notifications, all from “Winksy 🐻.” 

Three of them are drunken texts about how much Winks loves him and how he wants Eric to fuck him and how he wants Eric to pick him up, then there’s two snaps. One is a generic club-snap: bright flashing lights and shaky camera work and miming pop music to the camera, but the second is more interesting. It’s a bathroom selfie, and Winks looks super hot and cute trying to pout into the mirror, but for once, Eric isn’t even focused on Winks. He’s focused on the mirror. He’s sure he’s seen that before. Recently, even. He replays the snap and holds it down so that he can really study it. The sinks are familiar too. And that toilet door in the back. And - oh.  _ Oh.  _ This can’t be happening. Winks is in the same club as him, looking like  _ that,  _ and Eric didn’t even know. He opens his texts so quickly the phone screen looks like a blur to him.

_ Winks babe you’re in the same club as me x _

_ Go to the bar _

_ When you get this??? _

_ I wanna see you  _

_ Winks _

_ Look at your phone  _ 😩 

He waits for ten minutes but the messages still don’t get opened, so he decides to just head out onto the dancefloor and look for him. 

He passes dozens of gyrating couples, gaggles of girls who look at him judgementally as he gently tries to squeeze past, one even telling him to “go away, creep!” and even one girl who eyes him up and winks at him. She’s hot, and under any other circumstances he probably would have gone for it, but there’s only one person in his mind right now. That’s been the case for a while, as it happens. He keeps pushing through the crowds, but he has no luck. He keeps thinking he’s certain he can see Winks, but after he’s tapped the third slim dark haired boy on the shoulder then had to awkwardly back away, he thinks that maybe it’s time to give up. He’s so close to turning around and going home when he finally spots him. He’s over near the bar, dancing with a group of boys and girls, and he looks a little  _ too  _ close to the one Eric remembers as Ben. He can’t help himself from frowning as he makes his way over to them, and he knows he’s being a dick but that doesn’t stop him from putting a possessive hand on Winks’ shoulder when he reaches him. 

Winks whirls around, starting to bat Eric’s hand away and looking justifiably a little pissed off, but when he looks up and sees Eric’s face, the angry expression melts away in an instant, a bright smile lighting up all of his features. 

“Eric?!” he exclaims, all but leaping into his arms. Eric has to make a last minute attempt to catch him, and it leads to him spilling his drink all down his front, dropping his plastic glass in favour of catching Harry in his arms. Harry’s friends are still eyeing him with a bit of doubt, but Winks just leans up and goes to kiss him, until Eric hurriedly turns his face to the side. He leans into Winks’ side and whispers that Dele’s here, and Winks pouts but nods, understanding. 

His pout only lasts all of three seconds before he’s grinning again, and lacing their fingers together. 

“Let’s get you another drink,” Winks says, pulling him over to the bar. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“It’s okay,” Eric yells back. God, the music is  _ so  _ loud. It’s unbearable. Why do people even come clubbing? It’s not fun in the slightest. He’s going to have a headache for days. “You look nice!”

Winks smiles up at him and then leans over the bar to order their drinks. Eric feels his jealousy spike again when the pretty girl bartender gives Winks a once over. He’s filled with a sort of irrational need to make sure that people know that Winks is  _ his.  _ He puts a possessive arm around Harry’s shoulder and taps his card against the reader before Winks gets the chance to.

Winks leans back into him and says something Eric doesn’t quite catch, but he’s pretty sure that Winks called him his sugar daddy. His hold on Harry’s shoulder tightens and he’s even more desperate for him. He wants to fuck Winks right here, right over the bar. He wants everyone in the world to know that Winks is his. He knows that Dele is here somewhere and he knows he has to be a little careful, but he also knows that the club is packed and that Dele will be far too obsessed looking at Harry to really care, so he’s ready to be just a little reckless. He’s going to show people that Winks is his. 

He’s the one pulling on Winks’ arm this time, pulling him back to the dancefloor. Winks downs his drink and throws the plastic cup on the floor, and Eric’s about to berate him or at least give him a disappointed look, but he can’t when Winks uses his now free hand to grip Eric’s shirt and lean up to talk in his ear.

“Daddy,” he pulls back, unsteady, and his eyes are wide and imploring and just a little hazy from the alcohol. “Fuckin’.... Want you, please.” 

Eric has a cursory glance around, but he doesn’t really look too closely. He knows Dele isn’t right next to them and that’s all that matters. He wants everyone to know that Winks is his, that this gorgeous, hot as fuck guy calls him daddy, that he’s the only one that gets to kiss him, to fuck him. He grabs Winks by the waist and pulls him flush against him and kisses him. He doesn’t even care for a second, doesn’t even care if Dele sees. He doesn’t care. He wants Winks too badly to care about anything other than the feeling of Harry’s lips against his.

Harry’s the one who deepens the kiss, standing on his tiptoes and clutching Eric’s face between his palms and licking into his mouth, only pulling back to go right back in for another long, deep kiss. He can’t stop coming back, over and over again, and it almost makes Eric laugh when he pulls away for good and Winks frowns and asks why. 

He leans in so he can shout in Winks’ ear, still a little deafened from the music and assuming Winks is too.

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” he yells. “Do stuff.”

Winks winces a little, which Eric doesn’t take as a very good reaction, but then he cradles his ear so Eric thinks with some relief that maybe he just shouted a bit too loud. He can’t fucking help it though. He can barely hear himself think. 

He carries on, this time slightly quieter.

“You wanna suck me off baby?”

Winks nods emphatically, and Eric smiles as he drags him over to the bathroom. 

As he’s pushing open the bathroom door, he thinks he hears someone say his name. A little bit terrified, he whirls his head around from side to side, feeling caught out. He tries to inspect every single person, scanning for signs of Harry or Dele or even Jan and Tripps, but thankfully he doesn’t see any of them. 

“Eric?” Winks asks him imploringly, and Eric smiles down at him. He’s being stupid and hearing things, and he’s not going to let this opportunity slip away just because he’s being paranoid. There’s thousands of people in this club, there’s at least four different bathrooms, and he’s on the EDM floor, which Dele never ventures into anyway. And he’s pretty sure Harry Kane doesn’t even know what EDM is. It’s definitely fine.

He ruffles Winks’ hair and pushes him into the bathroom stall, kissing him before the door is even closed properly. 

Winks is giggling against his lips and grabbing his shirt and Eric feels like he might actually be in love. He’s going to have Winks on his knees for him in this horrible grimy bathroom, sure, but he also wants to tell Winks that he’s his - not just his to fuck, but his for everything. He’s never wanted someone this much before. He’s never felt like this about anyone else. He spares a cursory thought for Dele and Harry and how much heartache they put themselves through by not just telling each other the truth, and this is what makes him stop Winks from kneeling down.

“Hey,” he says a little breathlessly.

“Hey,” Winks replies, lips quirking into an uncertain smile, glancing at the floor then back at Eric. 

“I like you,” Eric mutters. “I really like you. I mean it, all of this.”

Harry’s confused pout morphs into an ear-splitting grin in a blink of an eye.  _ God _ , Eric thinks. He’s so fucking gorgeous. He’s always smiling. He’s always happy. He’s so so beautiful. Harry goes to speak, but Eric shushes him with a gentle kiss.

“I want to take you on dates,” he kisses him again, “And I want to kiss you all the time,” he kisses him again, “You’re mine.” 

Harry nods. 

“I’m yours.” 

“I know,” Eric smirks, and Harry rolls his eyes but smiles, kissing him again before Eric pulls him back gently by his hair. “Now get on your knees.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!!!!!
> 
> and I'm sorry for what's to come....
> 
> Stay strong. 
> 
> I love you all <3

Eric wakes up the next day to a thumping head, a throbbing dick and a queasy stomach. He’s torn between which one to deal with first, so for a while he just lies there in agony, dealing with none of it. He wishes that Harry was here. He wishes that he wouldn’t have been so concerned and worried and that he would’ve said yes when Harry asked him if he could come home with him. He thinks to himself that the absolute only thing that could make him feel okay right now would be to have Harry curled up in his arms. 

He picks up his phone, hoping that Harry is awake so he can at least text him or call him. 

He blinks. He does have a text from Harry, but not Winks. He has a text from Harry Kane. A couple of years ago that would not have been odd in the slightest, as he and Harry had been really close at uni, and they still were very good friends, but after the group chat with he, Dele and Harry had been created, they very rarely spoke privately. The only times they tended to text was when it was something about Dele - things Harry tried to ‘subtly’ find out, or Eric trying to figure out why Dele was moody and sad when Dele wouldn’t tell him. 

Eric assumes, then, that this text is about Dele too:

_ Morning. Can we meet for breakfast today in the Raindrops cafe? We need to talk. _

Eric smiles a little. This must be about Dele. Harry’s finally figured out he likes Dele and is freaking out and wants advice. Or maybe they did something last night and he’s freaking out and feels guilty. Either way, Eric is excited. It’s taken bloody long enough. 

_ Morning H! Yeah, give me half hour? I’m dying a bit  _ 😂

He sends the text and finally drags himself out of bed, pulling on his softest grey joggers and the biggest, comfiest jumper he owns. It’s grey too, but he doesn’t really care if he’s a one colour criminal. Dele’s not going to see him anyway, so he’s safe. 

He makes himself throw up before he goes, which is enough to kill his boner anyway, and then brushes his teeth and looks at himself in the mirror. He looks like shit. He gives his face a quick wash, realises he looks no different, then sighs and shrugs. It’s fine. Harry has seen him much more hungover than this. He’s sure he will perk up anyway after a cup of coffee, and he most definitely will perk up when Harry gives him the good news about Dele. 

He gets to the cafe five minutes early, but Harry is already there with an empty coffee mug at his side. He must’ve been here for a while, maybe even since he texted Eric earlier. Eric smiles. He knows Harry is probably stressing out and Eric can’t wait to tell him it’s all going to be okay.

“Hey, H,” Eric sits down, smiling when the waitress comes over with two coffees for them both. “Thanks,” he says gratefully, and Harry just nods.

Harry’s acting a little weird. Eric’s never seen him this nervous before. He’s just staring down at his coffee cup, his eyes look a little red like maybe he hasn’t slept much, and when he finally looks up at Eric it’s with trepidation.

“So…,” Eric starts, “It’s nice to hang out and everything. But I’m guessing there was something you wanted to talk about?”

Harry sighs.

“Yeah. I don’t really know how to say this,” he rubs his face with the palm of his hand. “So I’m just going to say it.”

Eric can’t help himself from smile a little at how stressed Harry is about this. As if Eric is going to be anything less than ecstatic for the pair of them. He wonders if Harry is about to ask for his permission, as if he’s Dele’s dad, and the thought makes him smile a little wider. He waits patiently for Harry to speak, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“What’s going on with you and Winks?”

He chokes on the coffee. It’s burning his throat from the inside, and he can feel tears gather at the corner of his eyes. He coughs and chokes and Harry just watches, waiting. 

When he’s finally able to breathe properly again, he looks at Harry and realises he has to answer. Fuck. He’s not smiling anymore.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you both last night. In the club. I shouted to you. I thought you heard.” 

Eric’s eyes widen. He was so fucking careless. He can’t believe this is happening. He can feel himself tense up, can feel his shoulders square up like they do when he’s stressed and upset.

“Did Dele -” he asks through a choked whisper, and he can’t believe the relief he feels when Harry shakes his head.

“Dele didn’t see. But he could’ve. I’m sorry, but what the  _ fuck  _ were you thinking?”

Eric’s still deeply guilty, but the way Harry said that makes him bristle. He bites his tongue and just stares at Harry, who’s clearly not done. 

“He’s Dele’s brother, Eric. Your best friend. And you’re what - sleeping with him behind his back? Dele’s going to be furious. And heartbroken. I can’t believe you would sneak behind his back like this. That you wouldn’t tell him, that -”

“Oh?” Eric says, temper rising. “You’re shocked I wouldn’t tell Dele something? That’s rich.”

“What?” Harry replies, eyebrows furrowed.

“You haven’t told Dele a lot of fucking things Harry.”

Harry shakes his head and tells him that they aren’t talking about him, but Eric’s temper has risen to the point that he can’t keep quiet anymore.

“You’ve got a fucking girlfriend, and Dele’s been in love with you for years. And either you have been too and you’ve not been telling Dele, or you aren’t and you’re stringing him along, all your kisses on your texts and you saying I love you every night and every time you almost kiss and Dele comes home and tells me all about it, acting like it’s the romance of the fucking century. So don’t give me shit about not telling Dele things.”

Harry slams his coffee mug on the table a little too hard.

“Don’t talk about this as if you know anything about it. You don’t have the right -” 

Eric tries to talk again but Harry just speaks louder.

“No, you don’t have the fucking  _ right  _ to berate me right now when I caught you dragging Dele’s little brother into the bathroom last night, kissing him and probably getting him to do god knows what to you in there. You forget I know Winks, I know him and I love him and I know how vulnerable he is and I can’t believe you’re taking advantage of him. You don’t have the right to turn this around on  _ me.  _ If Dele had seen you last night, he wouldn’t even be talking to you today _. _ I’ve not even slept properly because I’ve felt so horrible not telling Dele. I really don’t know how you can do this to him. It’s killing me and I’m not even the one who’s done anything wrong.”

Eric clenches his fist. He’s still angry, but he is a bit terrified. He still doesn’t know what he will do if Dele ever finds out. He tries to think of something to say, but Harry sighs again and stands up, drinking the last of his coffee.

“Tell Dele. Or I will.” 

Harry gets a few paces away before Eric calls him back. Harry halts in his steps and turns around.

“Break up with your girlfriend,” Eric spits. “Or break up with Dele.”

Harry’s face goes through a flurry of expressions but the last one Eric sees before he turns around is a frown. He stalks out of the cafe and leaves Eric to stew silently.

He has a few texts from Winks.

_ Hey xx _

_ How are you feeling? Xx _

_ Where are youuu  _

_ Dele’s gone out all day :( come round and cuddle me? Xx _

_ Come back xx _

Despite everything, he smiles. Winks always makes him feel better, no matter what. 

_ Morning baby  _ ❤️ _ I’ll be round in ten xxx _

He’s going to go round and cuddle Winks, and he’s going to kiss him and he’s going to fuck him, because Harry Kane isn’t going to fucking tell him what to do with his own fucking boyfriend. 

\---

He’s barely through the door before he’s pressing Winks up against the door and kissing him. Winks giggles and pushes him away so that he can say “hello,” but Eric just says “hi,” shortly before he pulls him in again by his hips. He thanks all the gods that he knows of that Winks is already shirtless. He runs his hands up and down Winks’ side and down his chest, even tweaking one of his nipples, eliciting a squeak. 

He can’t quite explain what is making him so possessive and, well, horny, but he thinks it’s probably the childish response to getting told off by Harry earlier. Harry tells him he’s not allowed to sleep with Winks? Well. Eric’s going to start sleeping with Winks  _ even harder. _

He pushes Winks down onto the sofa, taking the little box of muffins that he’d made out of his hands with a soft smile and setting them down on the table. He’s still so cute. Even when he’s hot, he’s still so,  _ so  _ cute. 

"Eric?"

"I love you," he silences him with a kiss. "I love you and you're my boyfriend and you're  _ mine. _ "

Winks smiles, looking as if he's not sure why he's getting this sudden outburst of affection - as if it's not obvious. As if it's not obvious that Harry is absolutely perfect in every way, as if it's not obvious that Eric is absolutely obsessed with him.

“Take your clothes off,” he insists, tugging on Winks’ waistband impatiently. “Off,  _ now. _ ” 

Harry shivers a little at the commanding tone of Eric’s voice, and Eric stares at him sternly until he hurries to comply, dragging his joggers down to his ankles. He leans down to take his socks off too, but Eric bats his hand away. He’s far too impatient for that, and besides, the fact Winks has knee high Spurs socks ( _ not  _ Liverpool) on under his joggers is endearing enough anyway. He pulls Harry’s boxers down himself, tickling his stomach in the process because he just can’t help himself. He is so in love with Harry’s giggles that he can’t ever resist trying to coax one out of him. 

“You want me to fuck you baby?”

He knows this is dangerous, fucking Harry here on the sofa, but Winks was sure that Dele would be out all day and so he’s certain they’ll be safe. Also, he’s still feeling bitter and petty about H lecturing him earlier, lecturing him about hurting Winksy as if it’s anything to do with him - as if Harry Kane knows what’s best for  _ his  _ boyfriend. So he doesn’t feel like being cautious. He’s sick of it. He’s sick and tired of feeling guilty about his boyfriend, about loving Winks, about wanting him. He’s going to tell Dele tomorrow. He’s decided. He’s going to tell Dele and face the consequences and he’s going to do it in the right way and hopefully Dele is going to be okay with it.

For now, though, Eric just wants to fuck his boyfriend senseless. 

He lifts Harry’s leg up over his shoulder and ducks his head so that he can lick and bite the inside of his thighs. He bites them once, twice, then a third time, each time licking and sucking them and praying that they leave a bruise. It’s not that he wants to hurt Winksy, honestly, he’s just feeling deeply possessive, and the thought of Harry covered in marks left by him, even if no one else can see them, is just so fucking hot.

He lowers his head a little further, pulling on Winks’ legs to make him lean up a little more. He glances up at Harry quickly, checking he’s okay, then ducks his head again and licks a long stripe over Harry’s asshole. Harry twitches in his grip, one arm extending out without him even meaning to, knocking over the tray of cupcakes and sending them cascading all over the floor. Eric pays them no attention, and neither does Winks, not when Eric is fucking him with his tongue. 

Harry is always wet, always leaking, whenever they do stuff like this. Now, though, he’s positively dripping. Eric replaces his tongue with his fingers, twisting and turning them inside of him just like he knows Winks likes, before he can’t wait any longer. He draws back and quickly lubes his dick haphazardly before he lines himself up and slowly pushes into Harry.

Harry moans, louder than he has before, and Eric wonders if it’s something to do with how Eric is holding his hips extra tightly, or the pace being a little faster and harder than usual, or maybe because it’s just all happening so fast. He’s so caught up in the moment that he’s barely able to talk, just saying Eric’s name over and over again, and “please,” and something else that Eric can’t quite make out. He thinks it might be “I love you.” The thought of that suddenly makes him want to propose to him right then and there.

He can feel himself getting closer, can feel his balls tightening with that familiar sensation, can feel Harry start to tense around him, then he hears something that makes his blood run cold.

Is that a car door slamming shut? 

_ Is it on the drive? _

He pulls out of Harry like he’s been burned, and Harry whines and tries to grab him and bring him closer again, and Eric is in such a panic he doesn’t know what to say, he has no idea how to explain the situation, he’s just stood there like a  _ fucking idiot  _ with his dick out and his mouth open, and then he hears keys jangling. 

_ Fuck.  _

He makes an aborted movement to pull his pants back up, and Harry must hear it too because his face is white as a sheet as he tries to cover himself up with the afghan throw. 

It’s too late. 

Dele walks in the room, giggling, Harry’s arm around him. Harry’s laughing too, looking at Dele like he’s made of stardust, and they’re both so lost staring at each other that for a second they don’t even notice Eric and Winks.

“Oh,” Dele says surprised. “Hey.”

Dele’s eyebrows furrow a little as he takes the image in front of him in, and he steps a little out of Harry’s grasp. Harry, for his part, just looks at Eric with a pained expression. He doesn’t even look angry, Eric’s brain supplies, he looks disappointed. 

“What…” Dele trails off, looking at Winksy on the couch, barely covered by the blanket, blushing bright red and spluttering, trying to think of what to say. He looks at Eric, eyeing his bare chest then settling on his dick, which Eric knows full well is straining in his joggers. Dele is starting to look less confused now. His brows are furrowed, but his lips are set in a hard line. His shoulders are starting to set, and Eric can see the vein popping in Dele’s forehead. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” 

Eric always thought he could talk his way out of anything - always thought he could think on his feet - but he’s at a loss. What the fuck is he meant to say? There’s nothing he can say. No defence. Dele’s just walked in on him fucking his younger brother. What can he possibly say to that?

“Oi,” Dele says again, striding completely out of Harry’s grip now and walking up to Eric. “I said what the  _ fuck _ is going on here? What the fuck are you doing?”

Eric goes to say something, and his mouth hangs open uselessly again. Why can’t he say anything? Why can’t he fucking say  _ anything? _

Dele pushes him, and Eric just lets him, stumbling backwards and still not fucking saying anything.

“Dier. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing?”

Every word is punctuated with a shove, and at the end of the sentence, Harry comes up behind him, clearly trying to soothe him, but Dele shoves him off him. That’s when Eric knows the damage is really done. Dele has never once refused Harry’s contact, in all the years they’ve known him. Dele is pissed beyond belief. And he called him  _ Dier.  _ Eric doesn’t think he can ever recall Dele calling him that before. 

“I’m -”

“You’re what? You’re fucking my brother?”

“I’m sorry, I-”

Dele laughs. It’s the worst sound he’s ever heard. It’s horrible. It’s cruel. It’s not  _ Dele.  _

“You’re sorry?”

Eric opens his mouth again, but Dele cuts him off and shakes his head. 

“Get the fuck out.”

Eric stares at him. The instruction is like a knife right through his heart. Dele has never once asked him to leave. Dele’s asking him to leave his house. Dele’s asking him to leave. 

“Get the fuck out of my house. Right now.”

He doesn’t move, too shocked, until Dele goes to push him again, and Harry intervenes, putting one hand on Dele’s shoulder and one hand on Eric’s, forcing Dele to step a few paces back from him. 

Dele looks like he tries to struggle again, but Harry keeps a surprisingly solid hold on them both. 

Eric hasn’t even thought to look over at Winks until now, but he checks on him now. Winks is still sat on the sofa, but he isn’t blushing any more. He’s crying. He’s sat there with his head bowed and he’s sobbing. 

Eric looks back at Dele, who is looking at him as if he’s the worst person in the world, and Harry, who is just looking sad. 

He nods quickly, trying to blink away his own tears, as he shrugs off the hand on his shoulder and steps around the pair of them. He’s leaving - he’s ruined everything and he’s made Winks cry and he’s made his best friend angry and - fuck. He might not even be his best friend anymore. Dele might never want to talk to him again. He wants to say something, anything to Winks, but he can’t. He’s too choked up. He feels as if the whole world is crashing down around him and the worst thing is it’s all his fault.

He feels the first tears start to fall as he leaves Dele’s house, thinking to himself that it might be the last time, and by the time he gets into his car he’s crying almost as hard as Winksy. He has no idea what to do. He doesn’t even know how he’s going to make the drive home. 

He’s ruined everything. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Eric spends the next couple of weeks moping. He pulls two sickies from work just so that he doesn’t have to change out of his joggers, then when he forces himself to go in on Wednesday he doesn’t get any work done because he can’t stop staring at his phone, willing Dele to text him. He doesn’t. Winks does, though, at least. Harry texts him just as much as before, and seems if anything even more determined to make Eric his boyfriend. It’s like Dele telling him he’s not allowed Eric has made Harry want him even more, and it rings so loudly of their childish sibling relationship that it makes Eric feel physically sick. He does throw up once in the office, because he spent all last night tossing and turning, not eating all day Thursday then trying to fill his void on Friday with everything in sight until it all came back to bite him. 

This feels like the worst break up he’s ever had, and he wasn’t even  _ dating  _ Dele. His chest hurts and he can’t sleep properly and the only thing keeping him going is Harry Winks. Harry’s so kind, so loving, so perfect, and Eric’s certain that without him there for him he would be drinking himself into oblivion every night. That or standing on Dele’s doorstep in the rain like they’re in some cheesy romance film. Of course, without Winksy none of this would have happened, but Eric doesn’t let himself dwell on that for too long.  _ It’s happened,  _ he reminds himself,  _ and you wouldn’t trade Winks for the world.  _

Eric doesn’t text Dele, knows that there’s no point, and that Dele is never good at resolving things over texts. He gets vindictive with his keypad far more than he does with his words, and reads into every punctuation mark or lack thereof with excruciating detail. The only texts Eric sends are asking him to please meet up to talk whenever he’s ready and that he’s sorry. 

That is until the two week marker passes, and Harry is Facetiming him, updating him on his day. He chronologues his day as normal, then says “and then Harry and Dele came back from their date -” and Eric takes a moment to process it before he stops Winksy.

“A date?”

Harry blinks.

“Yeah, they got together like…” he drifts off guiltily. “The day we uh-”

Eric shakes his head, not wanting Harry to go on any longer.

Dele’s been dating Harry for two weeks. Eric’s been waiting for this moment for years. He imagined that when Dele told him, they’d go out and get a bottle of champagne, that Eric would get Dele in a headlock and tell him “I told you so!” and that he would go out for dinner with the pair of them, grinning at how cute they are before pulling Harry to the side to give him a playful but protective warning.

He didn’t get any of that.

Dele didn’t even  _ tell  _ him.

His heart hurts.

He bids an earlier goodnight to Winks than normal and has another miserable night of tossing and turning, not letting himself cry about the fact he’s worried he and Dele will never be friends again.

At 3am, he rolls over and checks his phone. No new messages, but he has a little reminder that he never bothered to clear: “u owe me some krave.” The last time Eric had stayed at Dele’s, he’d eaten all his cereal, and Dele’s payback was to go on his phone, take some selfies and leave this in his calendar. He stares at the notification, eyes glazing over with what he blames as tiredness, and he opens his conversation with Dele.

It takes a few attempts, but finally he has a message he is ready to send.

_ I heard about you and Harry. I'm so happy for you. I'm so sorry about everything and I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore. But I know how much you wanted this and I just wanted to tell you that I'm so glad that you're happy. I'm sorry. And congratulations. You finally got him. _

He waits for five minutes to see if it goes from “Delivered” to “Read” but of course it doesn’t. It’s 3am. He has work in the morning, too, and he sighs before he locks his phone again and turns back over. He has to at least try and get some sleep.

The next morning, Eric’s heart stops in his chest when he sees that he has a new message from Dele.

It’s simple, but effective:

_ Thanks diet _

Eric’s eyes zero in on the old nickname. 

Dele’s still calling him Diet.

Despite everything.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way he can fix this. Maybe they’re going to be okay. 

With a slightly heavy heart, he clicks off the conversation with Dele and opens one with Harry Kane. The last time they talked it hadn't exactly gone well, and Eric still feels a little guilty about it, because, after all, he  _ was _ in the wrong. And he acted like Harry was just some stranger berating him, as if Harry hadn't been one of Eric's closest and most loyal friends for years. Still, he knows that Harry is probably his best bet in fixing things, and that he needs to talk to him.

_ Hi H. I wanted to say I'm sorry for how I acted the other morning, I was just defensive because I really like Winks and it seemed like you were judging without knowing the full story. I know that I was in the wrong though, and I'm sorry for how the whole thing went down, and for not telling Dele myself. I know that you two are together now (finally!) so congratulations on that. I'm really happy for the pair of you. I've told Dele as much, and he's finally replied, but not much. I know it's a lot to ask, but could you see if you could try and convince him to meet up with me? If nothing else, I just want to explain in person. Anyway, thanks a lot and congrats again. You two will make each other really happy. _

He sighs and clicks send, even though he's not really happy with the message.

He goes downstairs and busies himself making breakfast and a cup of tea and by the time he's finished, Harry has texted him back. He tells Eric thank you, and that he’s already tried, that he keeps trying, that he really thinks that they both need to be friends again, and that Dele is miserable. He follows up with a shorter text, that simply tells Eric to meet in that coffee shop again tomorrow. 

_ Just us? _

**No. I’ll get Dele to come.**

**And Winksy.**

Eric replies affirmatively, and pretends that he’s not panicking all day and all night. He spends his 12 o’ clock meeting solely planning out what he’s going to say to Dele, scribbling it down in his notebook and crossing it out with harsh lines. Jan keeps looking over, impressed and surprised by how diligently Eric is listening to the meeting. 

He thinks about it in the shower, thinks about how he’s going to say hello, practicing it a few times before he stops himself, cursing. He’s being a fucking idiot. It’s Dele. The boy who he’s seen throw up all over himself in bed, and has taken the chunks out of his hair by hand. The boy who’s followed him into the toilet and watched him piss for no other reason than “girls do it.” The boy who he’s known since they were ten years old. He doesn’t need to practice saying hello to him. He takes a deep breath and lets the hot water calm him down, tipping his head back so it soaks his hair. He shampoos his hair for longer than necessary, quite liking the feeling of his own fingers massaging his scalp, and then he uses his shea butter body scrub (knowing how much Dele always likes the smell, and hoping he hugs him at least once tomorrow) before turning the shower off. 

He even uses the cocoa body butter, grinning slightly to himself when he remembered Dele using a whole pot on himself “by accident” and leaving cocoa scented slime everywhere in his wake, and he lies in bed breathing deeply. He eventually FaceTimes Harry, knowing that will help him to calm down too, and Harry goes to say something about their meet up tomorrow but Eric shakes his head. 

Harry takes the hint, and just smiles and says “it will be fine,” before he switches topics, telling Eric about the girl in his class that he  _ hates  _ and how her points about Gatsby were all lifted from Tumblr or Twitter or something, and Eric laughs and laughs until he isn’t feeling too nervous anymore. 

When he wakes up in the morning, the nerves come rushing back, and he dresses in his pale blue jumper, the one Dele always says is his “Care Bear” jumper because he looks so cuddly in it, and he tries to at least style his hair a little. 

He sighs, knowing it’s hopeless, and stalks out of the door half an hour early. 

Sure enough, he gets to the cafe at 3:30pm, and he manages to sink a whole cup of tea before it’s even nearly time for them to be arriving. Eric waits until it’s five minutes early, then orders them all drinks. He orders himself a cappuccino, a latte for H, an iced coconut milk mocha macchiato with no whip but extra caramel sauce for Dele, and the chocolate chip frap for Harry, with the instruction to “pile it up with as much whipped cream as you can manage.” He cringes internally a little as always as he orders Dele’s, waiting for the barista to roll her eyes, but she just smiles brightly.

“Coming right up!” 

Eric smiles back at her and drops two pounds into the tip jar.  _ I love nice people,  _ he thinks, making his way back to the table and settling down. He starts thinking to himself about how their coffee orders link to who they are as people, and he gets so distracted by his train of thought that he doesn’t see Harry’s car pull up, and starts in shock when he sees Dele’s familiar red hoodie in the car park. 

He has a steadying sip of his coffee, almost spitting it out when it’s hotter than the sun itself, but ultimately choking it down just before they all walk through the door.

Dele looks sullen, his arms crossed defensively over his chest and his sleeves balled up around his fists. Winks stays a few paces behind, and he gives Eric a wave and a grin from where he’s standing as soon as he sees him. Eric can’t help himself from smiling back - he never can - and his whole demeanour softens until he catches Dele frowning at him. He evens his expression out as quickly as he can and Dele looks away grumpily as they approach.

Harry holds out Dele’s chair for him, and Dele doesn’t even seem to notice the gesture, but Eric does. He smiles ever so slightly because it’s just as cute and domestic as he always imagined they would be. They all take their seats, and Harry leads the way in thanking Eric for their drinks. Winks nods and grins and scoops a massive spoonful of cream into his mouth to prove his gratitude. He leaves a bit on the side of his mouth that Eric desperately wants to wipe off, but then he turns to Dele who is staring at him. Dele waits for a couple of minutes before he nods slowly. 

There’s a long, awkward silence where they all sip their drinks, Winks slurping the cream noisily through his straw and Dele gritting his teeth at the sound, until both Harry and Eric can’t stand it anymore. They both clear their throats to speak at the same time, then look up at each other expectantly. They politely wave the other on, but Harry wins, insisting that Eric go first.

“Right…” he looks at Dele again and tries to assess his carefully blank face. “Thanks for coming,” he says sincerely. “For a while I didn't know if you would.” He glances down at his hands holding his coffee cup then takes a deep breath and glances back up again. He meets Dele's eyes, then glances to his right and finds Winks smiling at him, looking a little nervous. He wonders if Winks knows that he loves him. He wonders if Winks is worried that he's going to break up with him. He can't bear to think of that so he turns back to Dele, ready to tell him everything. He opens his mouth but Dele stops him in his tracks, holding one of his sleeve covered hands up before he gently sets it down again. 

“You love him,” Dele says. It's not a question, it's a statement.

Eric nods.

“I do.” He turns to Winks. “I love you.” 

He grins as he watches Harry's face light up. He really doesn’t tell him enough if he looks so pleasantly surprised by the admission. He’s even blushing a little, Eric notices, and the thought makes him a little emotional because he’s so fucking  _ cute,  _ before he looks back at Dele and remembers why he is here. Dele is still looking stoic, but it’s much less intimidating than before, when he still looked angry. Still, he needs to apologise properly.

“I'm so sorry about how it all happened, Del. I know you don't deserve to find out like that, for us to be sneaking around like that. Because I love you too Dele. You're my best friend. This week has been hell thinking that I had fucked all of it up. I'm so sorry for the way that it happened...but I'm not sorry that it did. I'm in love. I just hope that it's okay and that you can forgive me for how it all happened.”

Dele assesses him, with shrewd eyes and his chin resting in his palm.

“What if I said no? What if I said I can't forgive you and I want you to never see Harry again?”

Eric doesn't miss a beat.

“I would miss you. I'd be devastated. But I wouldn't leave Harry.”

Dele waits for a few seconds then nods. Eric feels like maybe that was a test, and he's relieved to note that he's pretty sure he passed. 

“I'm still mad at you.” Dele makes sure to clarify, but he relaxes his posture. He turns to Winks and looks back and forth between them, his expression softening as well as his demeanor. “And I think I'm going to need to bleach my eyes after I walked in on you-” 

Dele breaks off to pull a disgusted expression and only carries on when Harry playfully nudges him. 

“But I can tell that you love him. And that he loves you. And...you're still my best friend. I think one day I'll probably think it's the greatest thing ever that my best friend and my little brother are together. I just think it's going to take me a while to get used to.”

Eric nods. He sighs and he feels like a ten tonne weight has been lifted off his shoulders. The phrase  _ you're still my best friend  _ rattles round in his head, and every time he thinks about it he feels such a deep deep sense of relief, so deep he feels it seeping into his bones.

“Thank fuck,” Eric says with all of his usual tact, and Dele smiles a little bit. That too, makes Eric feel about a stone lighter. “I do love him. I really do.”

Winks smiles and nudges him, so Eric looks over at him fondly.

“I love you too,” Winks says, and he laces their fingers under the table. 

Dele gives them a warning glance, and Eric can’t stop himself from slipping back into their old habits and jokes, filled with a giddy lightheadedness from the sheer relief. He flippantly remarks “you've seen worse,” before he bites his lip and freezes, wondering if he went too far. 

It’s a tense moment, but while Dele tries to look pissed off, he clearly can't hide that he found it funny either. He tries to purse his lips to stop himself from smiling, but then he covers his mouth as he barks out a laugh. Dele's laugh is infectious, maybe because all of them haven't heard it in a while, and after their laughter dies down a bit Dele mutters “too soon.” He's smiling, though. 

After that, they start to settle back into normalcy, and even though it’s a little tense and there’s moments they all wonder if they should calm down, or if they’re going too far, for the most part, it’s just as natural as it’s ever been.

Eric and Winks actually both team up to mock Harry and Dele together, cooing about how they're finally together after their whirlwind courtship that lasted a stunning seven years. Dele rolls his eyes and tells them to shut up, but Harry just makes it sweet and tells Dele that he was worth the wait. 

Eric and Winks mime gagging into their drinks, then giggle and coo at Dele grabbing Harry and kissing him to hide the blush on his face.

Harry has to go after a while because the kids in his football team have a big game in the evening, and Dele insists he's going to “to watch my boyfriend win the league” even though Harry gently assures him it's not his league to win, it's all for the kids. Dele is having absolutely none of it, and keeps calling Harry “gaffer” so many times that Eric starts to worry it’s a bit of a  _ thing  _ for them. Harry laughs and hurries them out of the door, but Dele stops to hug Eric before he goes.

“You know I’ll kill you, right?” He mutters in his ear.

Eric can only assume that he means if he hurts Winks, but a small part of him is still a little worried from everything that’s happened the past couple of weeks. Still, he nods and hugs Dele back tightly. He can tell Dele’s smelling his jumper and it makes him smile so widely his cheeks hurt. When they part, Dele is grinning too.

“Bye Diet,” he smiles, “Bye baby Winks.”

“Not a baby!” Winks yells after him, but Dele’s already out of the door.

Eric turns to Winks and they both look at each other for a moment before Winks all but climbs over the table to hug him. Eric pulls him in for a kiss, and Winks looks absolutely on top of the world. Eric is so happy he’s fit to burst. He’s got his best friend back, he’s got a boyfriend, he doesn’t have to hide his boyfriend anymore or feel guilty. He can just be happy. He kisses Winks one more time before he pulls back and boops him on the nose. 

“So...what do you say to going on a date?”

Winks grins at him and kisses him again.

“I would love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this has come to an end!!!!!!!
> 
> I'm so so sad about it <3 it feels like my baby and I don't want to give it up :(((
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read and took the time to comment or send me asks or just anyone who appreciated this at all <3333 
> 
> I'm fragile and I miss it already and I love all of you lots and I hope you're all happy with the ending :((((( <3


End file.
